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THE  WORLD'S # 
GREAT  CLASSICS 


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Timothy  Dwighx  D.D.  LLD. 
Richard  Henry5toddard 
Arthvr  Richmond  Marsh.  AB. 
Pay L  VAN  Dyke.D.D. 
Albert  Ellery  Bergh 


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Clarence  Cook  ••  Art  Editor. 


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THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

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THE    FRENCH 
REVOLUTION       3 


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THOMAS   CARLYLE 


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WITH  A  SPECIAL  INTRODUCTION  BY 
JULIAN    HAWTHORNE 


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By  the  colonial  PRESS. 


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SPECIAL    INTRODUCTION 


IN  Dumfriesshire,  among  the  Scotch  mists  and   heather, 
there  is  a  little  hamlet  called  Ecclefechan ;  and  in  Eccle- 
fechan  there  is  a  peasant's  cottage,  wherein,  on  the  bitter 
pY      winter  night  of  December  4,  1795,  was  born  a  man  destined 
to  stand  for  many  years  as  the  foremost  figure  in  the  literary 
guild  of  Great  Britain.     During  four  score  years  and  six  he 
•^      lived  and  wrote,  always  striving  to  see  the  truth,  and  tell  it 
•Is     as  he  saw  it ;  and  when  at  last  death  came  to  him,  in  the  little 
I      house  at  5  Cheyne  Row,  where  he  had  dwelt  since  1834,  in 
"^     the  midst  of  London,  and  yet  in  a  sort  of  seclusion,  the  name 
]l      of  the  obscure  peasant  child  was  known  to  every  person  of 
^      enlightenment  throughout  the  civilized  world. 

Thomas  Carlyle  was  never  anything  but  a  very  poor  man ; 
and  in  his  beginnings  he  was  poor  indeed.     At  the  Annan 
Grammar  School,  and  at  Edinburgh  University,  he  got  such 
education  as  the  time  permitted ;    and  afterwards  he  taught 
mathematics  in  the  school,  and  in  1816  was  a  schoolmaster 
at  Kirkcaldy,  where  the  famous  preacher  Edward  Irving  be- 
<^    came  his  nearest  friend.     For  the  next  six  or  eight  years  he 
*X    studied  law  in  Edinburgh,  supporting  himself  by  tutoring  and 
»    by  supplying  articles  to  encyclopaedias ;  in  1824  he  was  enabled 
\^    to  visit  the  Continent  and  London ;  and  in  1826  he  was  mar- 
ried to  Jane  Welsh,  and  they  took  up  their  abode  at  a  house 
called  Comely  Bank  in  Edinburgh.    But  after  two  years  there, 

V circumstances  took  them  to  the  village  of  Craigenputtock,  and 
^ept  them  there  six  years.     Carlyle  had  by  this  time  made 
N^  himself  felt  in  literature ;   through  the  medium  of  the  "  Lon- 
v^  don    Magazine "    and    "  Eraser's "   he   had    published    several 
^\n  weighty  essays  and  criticisms,  largely  on  German  literature 
and  biography,  and  had  written  his  philosophical  romance  of 
"  Sartor  Resartus,"  which  received  its  first  corrlinl  recognition 
in  this  country  through  the  agency  of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson, 

iii 


^ 


»^ 


j(;>i30 


iv  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION 

who  afterwards  became  one  of  Carlyle's  most  faithful  personal 
friends.  Not  until  three  years  after  its  appearance  in  book  form 
in  Boston  did  it  win  similar  honor  in  England.  From  this  time 
forth  books  and  pamphlets  and  occasional  papers  continued 
to  come  from  him,  and  his  influence  upon  his  contemporaries 
increased.  He  was  the  Mecca  of  literary  pilgrimages.  "  The 
French  Revolution  "  was  the  first  fruit  of  his  London  resi- 
dence, appearing  in  1837.  His  last  great  work  was  the  "  His- 
tory of  Frederick  the  Great,"  published  in  the  years  from  1858 
to  1865.  He  was  then  seventy  years  of  age,  and  his  subsequent 
utterances  were  few  and  fragmentary. 

Carlyle  was  greatly  influenced  by  the  philosophy  and  per- 
sonality of  Goethe  and  of  other  German  writers  of  that  epoch. 
The  strong  character  and  vivid  individuality  of  his  wife  were 
also  important  and  sometimes  disturbing  elements  in  his  life. 
But  nothing  could  abate  the  intense  original  flavor  of  the  man  ; 
he  was  Carlyle  from  first  to  last.  In  1866  he  received  the  high 
distinction  of  being  chosen  rector  of  Edinburgh  University, 
and  he  read  his  address  to  the  students  on  April  2d  of  that 
year.  In  1874  he  received  the  well-merited  decoration  of  the 
Prussian  Order  of  Merit.  But  his  career  was  singularly  de- 
void of  external  incidents  and  changes.  His  mind  was  its 
own  place,  and  therein  he  fought  his  fight  and  won  his  triumph 
and  underwent  his  sufferings.  The  current  of  his  interior  ex- 
istence rushed  with  force  and  fret,  and  never  reached  any 
central  serenity  and  poise ;  there  was  always  a  foam  of  in- 
dignation within  him  against  this  or  that  form  of  evil  or 
injustice ;  his  conclusions  were  sometimes  hasty  and  impas- 
sioned :  he  is  a  true  inspiration  to  generous  minds,  but  not 
always  a  trustworthy  guide.  His  currents  are  thrilling  and 
stimulating,  and  wholesome  to  bathe  in  or  drink  from  ;  but 
they  flow  headlong  through  devious  channels  to  an  unknown 
sea.  In  his  story  of  the  French  Revolution  we  find  him  at  his 
best  and  strongest,  and  it  is  that  story,  consequently,  that  we 
have  selected  as  his  representative  volume. 

More  than  sixty  years  have  passed  since  this  wonderful  book 
was  written,  and  it  still  remains  a  unique  product  of  human 
genius  applied  to  the  treatment  of  history.  It  was  published 
in  1837,  but  had  been  in  preparation  during  several  years  pre- 
vious ;  Carlyle  took  up  the  subject  immediately  after  finishing 
his  romance  of  "  Sartor  Resartus,"  in  which  his  philosophy  of 


SPECIAL    INTRODUCTION  v 

man  is  unfolded.  "  The  French  Revolution  "  may,  therefore, 
be  regarded  as  the  work  of  his  apogee ;  he  was  at  his  highest 
point  of  intellectual  vitality  and  efificiency.  His  age  was  about 
-forty;  the  ill-health  from  which  he  sulifered  had  not  yet  left 
'  its  mark  upon  his  writing ;  the  shadow  of  pessimism  which' 
L  darkened  his  latter  years  had  not  yet  become  noticeable.  The 
French  Revolution,  as  the  chief  historical  fact  and  problem  of 
the  age,  had  long  attracted  his  attention  and  formed  the  theme 
of  his  meditation ;  it  was  in  that  revolution  that  the  powers 
of  the  past  and  the  future  met,  and  more  or  less  blindly  and 
helplessly  dashed  against  each  other ;  the  conventional  sur- 
face of  things  was  broken  up,  and  what  was  revealed  beneath 
could  never  thenceforth  be  forgotten :  it  had  stamped  itself 
forever  upon  the  adamantine  records.  The  convulsion,  the 
overthrow,  the  upsurging,  were  so  violent  that  for  a  time  it 
seemed  as  if  quite  as  much  evil  as  good  had  been  brought 
forth ;  but  as  the  wreck  settled  down  and  the  smoke  and  dust 
drifted  aside,  thoughtful  minds  could  perceive  the  inestimable 
value  of  the  final  result.  Democracy  was  born ;  and  thoughj 
at  first  he  might  seem  an  invading  demon  from  the  Bottomless 
Pit  rather  than  an  angelic  avatar  from  on  high,  yet  as  his 
features  were  cleared  of  the  grime  and  relieved  of  the  distor- 
tion attending  his  advent,  and  his  relation  to  the  evolution 
of  the  human  race  became  apparent,  it  began  to  be  understood 
that  he  was  a  mighty  blessing  in  disguise :  most  inconvenient 
and  uncouth  for  the  time  being,  but  destined  to  afford  the 
'  only  means  whereby  man  could  ultimately  advance  beyond 
social  and  moral  barbarism.  Among  the  earliest  to  perceive 
these  truths  was  Thomas  Carlyle ;  and  the  book  in  which  his 
vision  is  set  forth  profoundly  affected  the  intellectual  attitude 
of  the  world  towards  the  revolution  itself.  For  his  "  History," 
it  will  be  seen,  is  less  a  narrative  than  an  interpretation ;  Car- 
lyle, though  he  will  take  infinite  pains  to  secure  his  facts, 
values  them  only  for  the  spiritual  meaning  they  contain.  He 
gives  them  to  us,  but  not  until  they  have  been  thoroughly  fused 
in  his  own  mind  and  their  relativity  and  significance  deter- 
mined. No  event  or  trait  of  character,  however  comparatively 
minor,  is  suffered  to  get  out  upon  his  page  until  he  has  pri- 
vately cross-questioned  it  and  sifted  it  down  to  its  inmost  soul. 
The  consequence  is,  of  course,  that  his  book  bears  small  re- 
semblance to  other  accounts  of  the  same  historical  episode, 


Jc 


vi  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION 

whether  written  before  or  since.  Several  of  the  latter  are  per- 
haps more  accurate  in  their  delineation  of  certain  component  - 
circumstances  of  the  great  Event,  because  their  writers  have 
had  access  to  wider  sources  of  information  and  have  enjoyed 
opportunities  of  comparison  and  deduction  which  were  not 
accessible  to  Carlyle ;  but  none  of  them  has  given  the  world 
a  volume  which  is  even  approximately  so  alive  as  this  of  the 
great  Scot's,  and  which,  consequently,  makes  so  immediate 
and  indelible  an  impression  on  the  memory.  Carlyle,  during 
his  long  life,  wrote  much,  and  little  that  he  wrote  will  not  re- 
pay perusal;  but  in  this  book  of  the  "French  Revolution's 
— if  you  can  read  but  one  work  of  his — you  will  find  nearly 
all  that  was  best  and  truest  in  him  stated  in  a  manner  most 
forcible  and  convincing.  You  may  dissent  from  some  of  his_ 
conclusions ;  you  may  take  exceptions — if  you  are  a  conven- 
tional purist,  heeding  form  more  than  matter — to  his  singular 
literary  style ;  but  no  one  can  seriously  read  this  book  through 
and  remain  altogether  the  same  manner  of  man  that  he  was 
before.  And  it  would  not  be  hazardous  to  surmise  that  such 
changes  as  it  brought  about  would  be  changes  for  the  better. 
It  is  the  truth  as  Carlyle  saw  it ;  and  Carlyle  saw  deeper  and 
wider  than  all  save  a  few  men  of  his  generation.  The  indi- 
vidual flavor  of  his  utterance  is  so  marked  that  this  fact  is  apt 
to  be  lost  sight  of;  but  when  that  quaint  Scotch-German 
dialect  has  ceased  to  ring  in  our  ears,  and  the  things  said  in 
it  are  examined  on  their  own  merits,  they  will  be  found  to 
wear  a  very  catholic  and  substantial  aspect.  ~ 

At  this  day,  the  only  criticism  on  the  book  worth  making  is 
this — that  the  more  one  knows,  from  other  sources,  of  the  his- 
tory of  the  period,  and,  indeed,  of  all  European  history,  the 
better  will  be  his  understanding  and  comprehension  of  this 
book.  If  the  reader  comes  to  it  for  his  first  information  con- 
cerning what  happened  in  France  during  the  last  years  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  he  is  likely  to  retire  from  the  attempt  im- 
pressed, no  doubt,  and  edified  as  to  many  things,  but  upon  the 
whole  a  good  deal  bewildered  as  to  what  the  happenings  in 
question  were,  and  how  and  why  they  happened.  Carlyle  is 
not  an  annalist,  not  a  teacher  of  the  historical  alphabet ;  he  as- 
sumes that  his  reader  already  knows  something  as  to  the  out- 
side of  events,  and  that  he  comes  to  him  to  learn  what  he  may 
of  the  inside — the  generative  causes,  and  the  relations.     To  a 


SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION  vii 

reader  thus  equipped,  the  perusal  is  a  constant  source  of  marvel 
and  delight.  Never,  perhaps,  has  a  historian  evinced  such  ab- 
solute and  instant  command  of  his  material  as  does  Carlyle  in 
this  book.  Every  event  is  known  to  him  as  familiarly  as  if  it 
belonged  to  his  own  biography ;  he  has  fathomed  every  char- 
acter in  the  story  as  keenly  and  considerately  as  if  he  or  she 
were  a  member  of  his  own  fireside  circle.  He  has  made  all  his 
own  to  the  remotest  roots  and  ramifications,  and  has,  moreover, 
studied  them  in  their  similitudes  and  bearings.  Every  thing 
in  short,  has  been  rendered  plastic  and  responsive  to  his  touch  ; 
and  in  treating  of  whatever  part,  the  whole  is  before  him. 
Therefore,  he  is  able  to  tell  the  tale  after  the  manner  of  the 
Greek  Chorus ;  we  hear  him  describe  the  scene  as  it  passes ; 
we  seem  to  hear  the  voices  of  the  actors  as  they  speak,  and  to 
behold  each  occurrence  as  it  passes  in  its  living  color  and  right 
proportion.  And  the  swift  commentary,  the  searching  moral, 
is  never  lacking,  yet  is  never  forced ;  until  when  we  lay  down 
the  book,  our  comprehension  of  the  theme  does  not  merely 
include  the  immediate  outlines  of  this  particular  drama  of  the 
French  Revolution,  but  has  assigned  it  its  proper  place  in  the 
history  of  mankind,  and  the  evolution  of  government.  It  has 
become  to  us  the  explanation  of  the  past  and  the  prophecy  of 
the  future. 
p  It  is  no  exaggeration,  then,  to  call  this  book  wonderful ;  one 
I  of  the  most  wonderful  ever  produced  by  a  man.  Go  to  the 
materials  from  which  it  was  composed,  and  mark  how  the  cre- 
ative mind,  dealing  with  them,  has  brought  poignant  and  speak- 
ing life  out  of  the  cerements  of  their  mummified,  incoherent 
death.  It  is  a  book  to  be  studied,  not  simply  for  what  its  words 
convey  as  to  the  matter  in  hand,  but  also  as  an  illustration  of 
the  art  and  power  of  writing:  an  example  of  what  may  be 
done  with  knowledge  well  digested,  moulded  into  breathing 
and  palpitating  flesh  and  blood  by  humor,  charity,  irony,  and 
sympathy.  How  rounded  and  firm  stand  out  every  episode 
and  personage :  casting  their  shadows,  flashing  their  lights, 
/  making  firm  their  roots  in  the  substance  of  human  life!  Truly 
a  wonderful  book :  the  fruit  of  genius  laboring  long  and  faith- 
fully, sparing  no  pains,  negligent  of  no  part,  admitting  no 
,  superfluity.  What  a  brain,  and  what  a  heart  and  force  are  lav- 
ished here  ;  so  that  one  might  say  that  the  energies  of  the 
whole  lifetimes  of  a  hundred  ordinarv  scholars  and  men  would 


viii  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION 

not  equal  the  energy  that  has  gone  to  the  making  of  this  single 
work !  Here,  if  not  elsewhere,  has  this  "  Peasant  of  genius  " 
(as  the  English  dilettantes  called  him)  made  good  his  claim  to 
be  the  foremost  man  of  letters  of  his  day.  J 

Having  in  view  the  freshness  and  crispness  of  these  pages,  as 
if  struck  off  at  a  white  heat,  the  irrestrainable  utterance  of  in- 
sight and  conviction,  it  amazes  us  once  more  to  remember  that 
the  book,  as  we  have  it,  is  not  the  book  as  it  first  came  from  the 
author's  hands ;  after  it  had  been  written,  to  the  last  word,  and 
stood  palpable  and  visible,  the  product  of  how  many  years  of 
ardent  and  arduous  toil — it  was  suddenly  destroyed — anni- 
hilated from  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  must  either  accept  anni- 
hilation as  its  final  fate,  or  else  be  all  rewritten  (from  such  scat- 
tered notes  as  might  survive) !  Read  the  book — and  to  do  that 
is  mental  exercise  enough  for  the  ordinary  mind ;  then  picture 
to  yourself  what  it  would  mean  to  write  such  a  book  ;  and  then, 
if  you  can,  what  it  would  mean  to  re-write  it !  Not  to  copy  it : 
not  to  remodel  it :  but  actually  to  go  back  to  the  place  where 
you  began  years  ago,  and  re-create  the  entire  thing  over  again, 
from  Alpha  to  Omega !  Would  you  have  done  it  ?  Would 
one  man  in  ten  thousand  attempt  it?  Yet  precisely  this  was 
what  it  was  laid  upon  Carlyle  to  do,  and  do  it  he  did,  without 
a  whimper  or  a  wavering.  There,  if  ever,  were  shown  the  cour- 
age and  constancy  of  sterling  manhood ;  and  the  story  is 
worth  recalling.  After  finishing  the  book,  Carlyle  gave  it  to 
his  friend,  John  Stuart  Mill,  to  read  and  to  pass  an  opinion 
on  it.  Mill  was  a  man  heedless  in  some  of  the  minor  duties  of 
life ;  and  instead  of  putting  this  manuscript  where  moth  nor 
rust  could  corrupt  it,  nor  thief  break  through  and  steal  it,  he 
left  it  lying  loose  in  an  odd  corner,  where  it  was  found  by 
a  housemaid  in  search  of  kindling  to  light  her  fire  withal,  and 
then  and  there  burned  to  ashes.  One  tries  to  imagine  the 
state  of  mind  in  which  Mill,  one  of  the  most  tender-hearted 
and  sympathetic  of  men,  went  to  Carlyle  to  tell  him  what  had 
befallen.  Carlyle,  for  all  his  greatness,  was  but  a  man  after 
all ;  he  had  his  faults  and  foibles,  was  grim  at  times,  and  might 
be  terrible  in  his  wrath.  And  Mill  had  to  tell  him  that  the 
crowning  work  of  his  career  was  burned  to  ashes  by  the  sheer 
carelessness  of  himself,  to  whose  care  it  had  been  intrusted ! 
A  truly  terrific  mission.  And  be  it  recorded  to  the  lasting 
honor  of  both  these  men,  that  not  for  an  instant  did  the  event 


SPECIAL   INTRODUCTION  ix 

interrupt  their  friendship.  Mill  told  his  story ;  Carlyle  ac- 
cepted the  blow  manfully,  and  sat  him  down  to  his  desk  once 
-  more.  Manfully  and  faithfully  he  wrote  the  book  again  from 
the  first  word  to  the  last ;  and  this  is  the  book  we  hold  in  our 
hands  to-day.  Is  the  present  version  as  good  as  the  first,  or 
better,  or  not  so  good  ?  We  shall  never  know ;  but  does  not 
the  incident  impart  a  precious  quality  to  these  pages,  which 
had  else  been  lacking  to  them,  and  give  them  a  human  beauty, 
apart  from  their  historic  value  ? 

The  book,  better  or  worse,  was  duly  published  at  last,  and 
safe  thenceforth  from  mortal  accidents.  It  made  its  mark  at 
once ;  it  gave  tone  to  all  thought  upon  the  French  Revolution 
for  many  years  thereafter.  Its  descriptions,  its  epithets,  its 
nicknames,  became  a  part  of  the  language.  It  educated  the 
generation  to  which  it  was  given,  and  it  will  give  inspiration 
to  minds  of  men  and  women  for  generations  to  come.  It  placed 
Carlyle  at  the  head  of  the  guild  of  English  literature ;  and 
though  he  may  never  have  surpassed  it  afterwards,  neither  did 
he  ever  produce  anything  unworthy  of  the  repute  it  gave  him. 
Curious  critics  may  pick  technical  flaws  in  it  to-day;  but  we 
look  in  vain  for  the  writer  who  can  produce  its  fellow.  It  stands 
solitary,  a  landmark  for  many  years,  to  be  supplemented  as 
time  goes  on,  but  not  to  be  superseded.  No  one  henceforth 
can  think  of  the  French  Revolution  without  thinking  of  Car- 
lyle. 

Julian  Hawthorne. 


CHOICE  EXAMPLES  OF  BOOK  ILLUMINATION. 

Fac-similes  from  Illurninated  Manuscripts  and  Illustrated   Books 

of  Early  Date. 


A    PAGE  FROM  A    TOULOUSE  BREVIARY. 

This  is  a  fine  example  from  a  breviary  with  a  miniature  of  St.  George,  written  in 
Southern  France  about  1400.  It  is  written  on  vellum,  and  is  generally  considered 
to  represent  the  perfection  of  French  art.  In  delicacy  and  beauty  it  is  not  surpassed 
by  any  other  illustration  in  Biblical  and  liturgical  manuscripts. 


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ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING   PAGE 


Thomas  Carlyle  (Portrait)  .         .         .  Frontispiece 

Photogravure  from  a  photograph 

A  Page  from  a  Toulouse  Breviary         .         .         .         .       x 
Fac-simile  Illumination  of  the  Fourteenth  Century 

A  Decorative  Page  from  a  Hebrew  Bible     .         .         .182 

Fac-simile  example  of  Printing  and  Engraving  in  the  Fifteenth  Century 

Episode  of  the  Defence  of  Saragossa    .         .         .         .250 

Photogravure  from  a  painting 


THE    FRENCH    REVOLUTION 

THE   BASTILLE. 


Diesem  Ambos  vergleich'  ich  das  Land,  den  Hammer  dem  Herrscher, 
Und  dem  Volke  das  Blech,  das  in  der  Mitte  sich  kriimmt. 

Wehe  dem  armen  Blech,  wenn  nur  willkiirliche  Schlage 
Ungewiss  treffen,  und  nie  fertig  der  Kessel  erscheint ! 

Goethe. 


THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

BOOK  FIRST. 

DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XV. 

Chapter  I. — Louis  the  Well-Beloved. 

PRESIDENT  RENAULT,  remarking  on  royal  Surnames 
of  Honor  how  difficult  it  often  is  to  ascertain  not  only 
why,  but  even  when,  they  were  conferred,  takes  occasion, 
in  his  sleek  official  way,  to  make  a  philosophical  reflection. 
"  The  Surname  of  Bien-aime  (Well-beloved),"  says  he,  "  which 
Louis  XV  bears,  will  not  leave  posterity  in  the  same  doubt. 
This  Prince,  in  the  year  1744,  while  hastening  from  one  end  of^ 
his  kingdom  to  the  other,  and  suspending  his  conquests  in  Flan- 
ders that  he  might  fly  to  the  assistance  of  Alsace,  was  arrested 
at  Metz  by  a  malady  which  threatened  to  cut  short  his  days.  At 
the  news  of  this,  Paris,  all  in  terror,  seemed  a  city  taken  by 
storm :  the  churches  resounded  with  supplications  and  groans ; 
the  prayers  of  priests  and  people  were  every  moment  interrupted 
by  their  sobs:  and  it  was  from  an  interest  so  dear  and  tender 
that  this  Surname  of  Bien-aimc  fashioned  itself, — a  title  higher 
still  than  all  the  rest  which  this  great  Prince  has  earned."  a 

So  stands  it  written;  in  lasting  memorial  of  that  year  1744. 
Thirty  other  years  have  come  and  gone ;  and  "  this  great 
Prince  "  again  lies  sick ;  but  in  how  altered  circumstances  now  ! 
Churches  resound  not  with  excessive  groanings ;  Paris  is  stoic- 
ally calm :  sobs  interrupt  no  prayers,  for  indeed  none  are  of- 
fered ;  except  Priests'  Litanies,  read  or  chanted  at  fixed  money- 
rate  per  hour,  which  are  not  liable  to  interruption.  The  shep- 
herd of  the  people  has  been  carried  home  from  Little  Trianon, 
heavy  of  heart,  and  been  put  to  bed  in  his  own  Chateau  of  Ver- 
sailles:  the  flock  knows  it,  and  heeds  it  not.    At  most,  in  the 

a  Abrege  Chronologique  de  I'Histoire  dc  France  (Paris,  1775),  p.  701. 

3 


4  CARLYLE  [i  744— 74 

immeasurable  tide  of  French  Speech  (which  ceases  not  day 
after  day,  and  only  ebbs  toward  the  short  hours  of  night),  may 
this  of  the  royal  sickness  emerge  from  time  to  time  as  an  ar- 
ticle of  news.  Bets  are  doubtless  depending ;  nay,  some  people 
"  express  themselves  loudly  in  the  streets."^  But  for  the  rest, 
on  green  field  and  steepled  city,  the  May  sun  shines  out,  the  May 
evening  fades ;  and  men  ply  their  useful  or  useless  business  as 
if  no  Louis  lay  in  danger. 

Dame  Dubarry,  indeed,  might  pray,  if  she  had  a  talent  for 
it ;  Duke  d'Aiguillon  too,  Maupeou  and  the  Parlement  Mau- 
peou :  these,  as  they  sit  in  their  high  places,  with  France  har- 
nessed under  their  feet,  know  well  on  what  basis  they  continue 
there.  Look  to  it,  D'Aiguillon,  sharply  as  thou  didst,  from  the 
Mill  of  St.  Cast,  on  Quiberon  and  the  invading  English  ;  thou, 
"  covered  if  not  with  glory  yet  with  meal !  "  Fortune  was  ever 
accounted  inconstant :  and  each  dog  has  but  his  day. 

Forlorn  enough  languished  Duke  d'Aiguillon,  some  years 
ago  ;  covered,  as  we  said,  with  meal ;  nay  with  worse.  For  La 
Chalotais,  the  Breton  Parlementeer,  accused  him  not  only  of 
poltroonery  and  tyranny,  but  even  of  concussion  (official  plun- 
der of  money)  ;  which  accusations  it  was  easier  to  get 
"  quashed  "  by  backstairs  Influences  than  to  get  answered : 
neither  could  the  thoughts,  or  even  the  tongues,  of  men  be  tied. 
Thus,  under  disastrous  eclipse,  had  this  grand-nephew  of  the 
great  Richelieu  to  glide  about ;  unworshipped  by  the  world ; 
resolute  Choiseul,  the  abrupt  proud  man,  disdaining  him,  or 
even  forgetting  him.  Little  prospect  but  to  glide  into  Gascony, 
to  rebuild  Chateaus  there,^  and  die  inglorious  killing  game! 
However,  in  the  year  1770,  a  certain  young  soldier,  Dumouriez 
by  name,  returning  from  Corsica,  could  see  "  with  sorrow,  at 
Compiegne,  the  old  King  of  France,  on  foot,  with  dofifed  hat, 
in  sight  of  his  army,  at  the  side  of  a  magnificent  phaeton,  doing 
homage  to  the — Dubarry."  d 

Much  lay  therein  !  Thereby,  for  one  thing,  could  D'Aiguillon 
postpone  the  rebuilding  of  his  Chateau,  and  rebuild  his  fortunes 
first.  For  stout  Choiseul  would  discern  in  the  Dubarry  nothing 
but  a  wonderfully  dizened  Scarlet-woman ;  and  go  on  his  way 
as  if  she  were  not.     Intolerable:  the  source  of  sighs,  tears,  of 

b  Memoircs  de  M.  le  Baron  Bcscnval  (Paris,  1805),  ii.  59-50. 
c  Arthur  Young,  Travels  during  the  years  1787-88-89  (Bury  St.  Ed- 
munds, 1792),  i.  44. 

d  La  Vie  et  les  Memoires  du  General  Dumouriez  (Paris,  1822),  i.  141. 


1744—74]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  5 

pettings  and  poutings ;  which  would  not  end  till  "  France  " 
(La  France,  as  she  named  her  royal  valet)  finally  mustered 
heart  to  see  Choiseul ;  and  with  that  "  quivering  in  the  chin 
(tremblement  du  menton)  "  natural  in  such  case/  faltered  out 
a  dismissal :  dismissal  of  his  last  substantial  man,  but  pacifica- 
tion of  his  scarlet-woman.  Thus  D'Aiguillon  rose  again,  and 
culminated.  And  with  him  there  rose  Maupeou,  the  banisher  of 
Parlements ;  who  plants  you  a  refractory  President  "  at  Croe 
in  Combrailles  on  the  top  of  steep  rocks,  inaccessible  except  by 
litters,"  there  to  consider  himself.  Likewise  there  rose  Abbe 
Terray,  dissolute  Financier,  paying  eight  pence  in  the  shilling, 
— so  that  wits  exclaim  in  some  press  at  the  playhouse,  "  Where 
is  Abbe  Terray,  that  he  might  reduce  us  to  two-thirds !  "  And 
so  have  these  individuals  (verily  by  black-art)  built  them  a 
Domdaniel,  or  enchanted  Dubarrydom ;  call  it  an  Armida- 
Palace,  where  they  dwell  pleasantly;  Chancellor  Maupeou 
"  playing  blindman's-buff  "  with  the  scarlet  Enchantress ;  or 
gallantly  presenting  her  with  dwarf  Negroes; — and  a  Most 
Christian  King  has  unspeakable  peace  within  doors,  whatever 
he  may  have  without.  "  My  Chancellor  is  a  scoundrel ;  but  I 
cannot  do  without  him."/" 

Beautiful  Armida-Palace,  where  the  inmates  live  enchanted 
lives ;  lapped  in  soft  music  of  adulation ;  waited  on  by  the 
splendors  of  the  world  ; — which  nevertheless  hangs  wondrously 
as  by  a  single  hair.  Should  the  Most  Christian  King  die ;  or 
even  get  seriously  afraid  of  dying !  For,  alas,  had  not  the  fair 
haughty  Chateauroux  to  fly,  with  wet  cheeks  and  flaming  heart, 
from  that  Fever-scene  at  Metz,  long  since ;  driven  forth  by  sour 
shavelings?  She  hardly  returned,  when  fever  and  shavelings 
were  both  swept  into  the  background.  Pompadour  too,  when 
Damiens  wounded  Royalty  "  slightly,  under  the  fifth  rib,"  and 
our  drive  to  Trianon  went  off  futile,  in  shrieks  and  madly 
shaken  torches, — had  to  pack,  and  be  in  readiness :  yet  did  not 
go,  the  wound  not  proving  poisoned.  For  his  Majesty  has 
religious  faith ;  believes,  at  least  in  a  Devil.  And  now  a  third 
peril ;  and  who  knows  what  may  be  in  it  For  the  Doctors  look 
grave ;  ask  privily.  If  his  Majesty  had  not  the  small-pox  long 
ago? — and  doubt  it  may  have  been  a  false  kind.  Yes,  Maupeou, 
pucker  those  sinister  brows  of  thine,  and  peer  out  on  it  with  thy 

e  Bescnval,  Mhtwircs,  ii.  21. 

/  Dulaure,  Histoire  dc  Paris  (Paris,  1824),  vii.  328. 


6  CARLYLE  [i  744— 74 

malign  rat-eyes :  it  is  a  questionable  case.  Sure  only  that  man 
is  mortal ;  that  with  the  life  of  one  mortal  snaps  irrevocably 
the  wonderfulest  talisman,  and  all  Dubarrydom  rushes  off,  with 
tumult,  into  infinite  Space ;  and  ye,  as  subterranean  Apparitions 
are  wont,  vanish  utterly, — leaving  only  a  smell  of  sulphur ! 

These,  and  what  holds  of  these  may  pray, — to  Beelzebub,  or 
whoever  will  hear  them.  But  from  the  rest  of  France  there 
comes,  as  was  said,  no  prayer ;  or  one  of  an  opposite  character, 
"  expressed  openly  in  the  streets."  Chateau  or  Hotel,  where  an 
enlightened  Philosophism  scrutinizes  many  things,  is  not  given 
to  prayer :  neither  are  Rossbach  victories,  Terray  Finances,  nor, 
say  only  "  sixty  thousand  Lettres  dc  Cachet"  (which  is  Mau- 
peou's  share),  persuasives  toward  that.  O  Renault!  Prayers? 
From  a  France  smitten  (by  black-art)  with  plague  after  plague, 
and  lying  now,  in  shame  and  pain,  with  a  Harlot's  foot  on  its 
neck,  what  prayer  can  come?  Those  lank  scarecrows,  that 
prowl  hunger-stricken  through  all  highways  and  byways  of 
French  Existence,  will  they  pray  ?  The  dull  millions  that,  in  the 
workshop  or  furrowfield,  grind  foredone  at  the  wheel  of  Labor, 
like  haltered  gin-horses,  if  blind  so  much  the  quieter?  Or  they 
that  in  the  Bicetre  Hospital,  "  eight  to  a  bed,"  lie  waiting  their 
manumission?  Dim  are  those  heads  of  theirs,  dull  stagnant 
those  hearts :  to  them  the  great  Sovereign  is  known  mainly  as 
the  great  Regrater  of  Bread.  If  they  hear  of  his  sickness,  they 
will  answer  with  a  dull  Tant  pis  pour  lid;  or  with  the  question, 
Will  he  die? 

Yes,  will  he  die  ?  that  is  now,  for  all  France,  the  grand  ques- 
tion, and  hope;  whereby  alone  the  King's  sickness  has  still 
some  interest. 

Chapter  II. — Realized  Ideals. 

Such  a  changed  France  have  we ;  and  a  changed  Louis. 
Changed,  truly ;  and  further  than  thou  yet  seest ! — To  the  eye 
of  History  many  things,  in  that  sick-room  of  Louis,  are  now 
visible,  which  to  the  Courtiers  there  present  were  invisible.  For 
indeed  it  is  well  said,  "  in  every  object  there  is  inexhaustible 
meaning ;  the  eye  sees  in  it  what  the  eye  brings  means  of  see- 
ing." To  Newton  and  to  Newton's  Dog  Diamond,  what  a  dif- 
ferent pair  of  Universes ;  while  the  painting  on  the  optical 
retina  of  both  was,  most  likely,  the  same  !  Let  the  Reader  here, 
in  this  sick-room  of  Louis,  endeavor  to  look  with  the  mind  too. 


1744—74]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  7 

Time  was  when  men  could  (so  to  speak)  of  a  given  man, 
by  nourishing  and  decorating  him  with  fit  appliances,  to  the 
due  pitch,  make  themselves  a  King,  almost  as  the  Bees  do ;  and 
what  was  still  more  to  the  purpose,  loyally  obey  him  when  made. 
The  man  so  nourished  and  decorated,  thenceforth  named  royal, 
does  verily  bear  rule ;  and  is  said,  and  even  thought,  to  be,  for 
example,  "  prosecuting  conquests  in  Flanders,"  when  he  lets 
himself  like  luggage  be  carried  thither :  and  no  light  luggage ; 
covering  miles  of  road.  For  he  has  his  unblushing  Chateauroux, 
with  her  bandboxes  and  rouge-pots,  at  his  side ;  so  that,  at  every 
new  station,  a  wooden  gallery  must  be  run  up  between  their 
lodgings.  He  has  not  only  his  Maison-Bouclic,  and  Valctaille 
without  end,  but  his  very  Troop  of  Players,  with  their  paste- 
board coulisses,  thunder-barrels,  their  kettles,  fiddles,  stage- 
wardrobes,  portable  larders  (and  chaffering  and  quarrelling 
enough)  ;  all  mounted  in  wagons,  tumbrils,  second-hand 
chaises — sufficient  not  to  conquer  Flanders,  but  the  patience  of 
the  world.  With  such  a  flood  of  loud  jingling  appurtenances 
does  he  lumber  along,  prosecuting  his  conquests  in  Flanders : 
wonderful  to  behold,  So  nevertheless  it  was  and  had  been: 
to  some  solitary  thinker  it  might  seem  strange ;  but  even 
to  him  inevitable,  not  unnatural. 

For  ours  is  a  most  fictile  world ;  and  man  is  the  most  fingent 
plastic  of  creatures.  A  world  not  fixable ;  not  fathomable !  An 
unfathomable  Somewhat,  which  is  Not  we;  which  we  can 
work  with,  and  live  amidst, — and  model,  miraculously  in  our 
miraculous  Being,  and  name  World. — But  if  the  very  Rocks 
and  Rivers  (as  Metaphysic  teaches)  are,  in  strict  language, 
made  by  those  outward  Senses  of  ours,  how  much  more,  by  the 
Inward  Sense,  are  all  Phenomena  of  the  spiritual  kind :  Digni- 
ties, Authorities,  Holies,  Unholies !  Which  inward  sense,  more- 
over, is  not  permanent  like  the  outward  ones,  but  forever  grow- 
ing and  changing.  Does  not  the  Black  African  take  of  Sticks 
and  Old  Clothes  (say,  exported  Monmouth-Street  cast-clothes) 
what  will  suffice,  and  of  these,  cunningly  combining  them, 
fabricate  for  himself  an  Eidolon  (Idol,  or  Thing  Seen),  and 
name  it  Miimho-Jumho;  which  he  can  thenceforth  pray  to,  with 
upturned  awestruck  eye,  not  without  hope?  The  white  Euro- 
pean mocks;  but  ought  rather  to  consider;  and  see  whether 
he,  at  home,  could  not  do  the  like  a  little  more  wisely. 

So  it  was,  we  say,  in  those  conquests  of  Flanders,  thirty 


8  CARLYLE  [  1744—74 

years  ago :  but  so  it  no  longer  is.  Alas,  much  more  lies  sick  than 
poor  Louis :  not  the  French  King  only,  but  the  French  King-  /  ■^' 
ship ;  this  too,  after  long  rough  tear  and  wear,  is  breaking  down. 
The  world  is  all  so  changed ;  so  much  that  seemed  vigorous 
has  sunk  decrepit,  so  much  that  was  not  is  beginning  to  be ! — 
Borne  over  the  Atlantic,  to  the  closing  ear  of  Louis,  King  by 
the  Grace  of  God,  what  sounds  are  these;  muffled  ominous, 
new  in  our  centuries  ?  Boston  Harbor  is  black  with  unexpected 
Tea:  behold  a  Pennsylvanian  Congress  gather;  and  ere  long, 
on  Bunker  Hill,  Democracy  announcing,  in  rifle-volleys  death- 
^  winged,  under  her  Star-Banner,  to  the  tune  of  Yankee-doodle- 
doo,  that  she  is  born,  and,  whirlwind-like,  will  envelop  the 
whole  world ! 

Sovereigns  die  and  Sovereignties :  how  all  dies,  and  is  for  a 
Time  only ;  is  a  ''  Time-phantasm,  yet  reckons  itself  real !  " 
The  Merovingian  Kings,  slowly  wending  on  their  bullock-carts 
through  the  streets  of  Paris,  with  their  long  hair  flowing,  have 
all  wended  slowly  on — into  Eternity.  Charlemagne  sleeps  at 
Salzburg,  with  truncheon  grounded  ;  only  Fable  expecting  that 
he  will  awaken.  Charles  the  Hammer,  Pepin  Bow-legged,  where 
now  is  their  eye  of  menace,  their  voice  of  command?  RoUo 
and  his  shaggy  Northmen  cover  not  the  Seine  with  ships ;  but 
have  sailed  off  on  a  longer  voyage.  The  hair  of  Towhead  (  Tete 
d'ctoupcs)  now  needs  no  combing ;  Iron-cutter  (TaiUefer)  can- 
not cut  a  cobweb  ;  shrill  Fredegonda,  shrill  Brunhilda  have  had 
out  their  hot  life-scold,  and  lie  silent,  their  hot  life-frenzy  cooled. 
Neither  from  that  black  Tower  de  Nesle  descends  now  darkling 
the  doomed  gallant,  in  his  sack,  to  the  Seine  waters ;  plunging 
into  Night :  for  Dame  de  Nesle  now  cares  not  for  this  world's 
gallantry,  heeds  not  this  world's  scandal ;  Dame  de  Nesle  is 
herself  gone  into  Night.  They  arc  all  gone;  sunk — down, 
down,  with  the  tumult  they  made ;  and  the  rolling  and  the 
trampling  of  ever  new  generations  pass  over  them;  and  they 
hear  it  not  any  more  forever. 

And  yet  withal  has  there  not  been  realized  somewhat  ?  Con- 
sider (to  go  no  further)  these  strong  Stone-edifices,  and  what 
they  hold!  Mud-Town  of  the  Borderers  (Ltitetia  Parisiorum 
or  Barisioruin)  has  paved  itself,  has  spread  over  all  the  Seine 
Islands,  and  far  and  wide  on  each  bank,  and  become  City  of 
Paris,  sometimes  boasting  to  be  "  Athens  of  Europe,"  and 
even  "Capital  of  the  Universe."     Stone  towers  from  aloft; 


1744—74]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  9 

long-lasting,  grim  with  a  thousand  years.  Cathedrals  are  there, 
and  a  Creed  (or  memory  of  a  Creed)  in  them;  Palaces,  and 
a  State  and  Law.  Thou  seest  the  Smoke-vapor;  unextin- 
guished Breath  as  of  a  thing  living.  Labor's  thousand  hammers 
ring  on  her  anvils :  also  a  more  miraculous  Labor  works  noise- 
lessly, not  with  the  Hand  but  with  the  Thought.  How  have 
cunning  workmen  in  all  crafts,  with  their  cunning  head  and 
right-hand,  tamed  the  Four  Elements  to  be  their  ministers ; 
yoking  the  Winds  to  their  Sea-chariot,  making  the  very  Stars 
their  Nautical  Timepiece ; — and  written  and  collected  a  Bihlio- 
theqiie  du  Roi;  among  whose  Books  is  the  Hebrew  Book  !  A 
wondrous  race  of  creatures :  these  have  been  realized,  and  what 
of  Skill  is  in  these :  call  not  the  Past  Time,  with  all  its  con- 
fused wretchednesses,  a  lost  one. 

Observe,  however,  that  of  man's  whole  terrestrial  posses- 
sions and  attainments,  unspeakably  the  noblest  are  his  Symbols, 

•  divine  or  divine-seeming;  under  which  he  marches  and  fights, 
with  victorious  assurance,  in  this  life-battle:  what  we  can  call 
his  Realized  Ideals.  Of  which  realized  Ideals,  omitting  the  rest, 
consider  only  these  two :  his  Church,  or  spiritual  Guidance ; 
his  Kingship,  or  temporal  one.  The  Church  :  what  a  word  was 
there ;  richer  than  Golconda  and  the  treasures  of  the  world ! 
In  the  heart  of  the  remotest  mountains  rises  the  little  Kirk ; 
the  Dead  all  slumbering  round  it,  under  their  white  memorial- 
stones,  "  in  hope  of  a  happy  resurrection :  " — dull  wert  thou,  O 
Reader,  if  never  in  any  hour  (say  of  moaning  midnight,  when 
such  Kirk  hung  spectral  in  the  sky,  and  Being  was  as  if  swal- 
lowed up  of  Darkness)  it  spoke  to  thee — things  unspeakable, 
that  went  into  thy  soul's  soul.  Strong  was  he  that  had  a  Church, 
what  we  can  call  a  Church :  he  stood  thereby,  though  "  in  the 
centre  of  Immensities,  in  the  conflux  of  Eternities,"  yet  manlike 
towards  God  and  man ;  the  vague  shoreless  Universe  had  be- 
come for  him  a  firm  city,  and  dwelling  which  he  knew.  Such 
virtue  was  in  Belief ;  in  these  words,  well  spoken :  /  believe. 
Well  might  men  prize  their  Credo,  and  raise  stateliest  Temples 
for  it,  and  reverend  Hierarchies,  and  give  it  the  tithe  of  their 

•  substance;   it  was  worth  living  for  and  dying  for. 

Neither  was  that  an  inconsiderable  moment  when  wild-armed 
men  first  raised  their  Strongest  aloft  on  the  buckler-throne,  and, 
with  clanging  armor  and  hearts,  said  solemnly :  Be  thou  our 
Acknowledged  Strongest!    In  such  Acknowledged  Strongest 


lo  CARLYLE  [1744—74 

(well  named  King,  Kon-ning,  Can-ning,  or  Man  that  was  Able) 
what  a  Symbol  shone  now  for  them, — significant  with  the  des- 
tinies of  the  world !  A  Symbol  of  true  Guidance  in  return  for 
loving  Obedience;  properly,  if  he  new  it,  the  prime  want  of 
man.  A  Symbol  which  might  be  called  sacred ;  for  is  there  not, 
in  reverence  for  what  is  better  than  we,  an  indestructible  sacred- 
ness?  On  which  ground,  too,  it  was  well  said  there  lay  in  the 
Acknowledged  Strongest  a  divine  right ;  as  surely  there  might 
in  the  Strongest,  whether  Acknowledged  or  not, — considering 
who  it  was  that  made  him  strong.  And  so,  in  the  midst  of 
confusions  and  unutterable  incongruities  (as  all  growth  is  con- 
fused), did  this  of  Royalty,  with  Loyalty  environing  it,  spring 
up;  and  grow  mysteriously,  subduing  and  assimilating  (for  a 
principle  of  Life  was  in  it)  ;  till  it  also  had  grown  world-great, 
and  was  among  the  main  Facts  of  our  modern  existence.  Such 
a  Fact,  that  Louis  XIV.,  for  example,  could  answer  the  ex- 
postulatory  Magistrate  with  his  **  L'Etat  c'est  moi  (The  State? 
I  am  the  State)  ;  "  and  be  replied  to  by  silence  and  abashed 
looks.  So  far  had  accident  and  forethought ;  had  your  Louis 
Elevenths,  with  the  leaden  Virgin  in  their  hatband,  and  torture- 
wheels  and  conical  oubliettes  (man-eating!)  under  their  feet; 
your  Henri-Fourths,  with  their  prophesied  social  millennium, 
"  when  every  peasant  should  have  his  fowl  in  the  pot ;"  and  on 
the  whole,  the  fertility  of  this  most  fertile  Existence  (named 
of  Good  and  Evil) — brought  it,  in  the  matter  of  the  Kingship. 
Wondrous !  Concerning  which  may  we  not  again  say,  that  in 
the  huge  mass  of  Evil,  as  it  rolls  and  swells,  there  is  ever  some 
Good  working  imprisoned;  working  towards  deliverance  and 
triumph  ? 

How  such  Ideals  do  realize  themselves ;  and  grow,  won- 
drously,  from  amid  the  incongruous  ever-fluctuating  chaos  of 
the  Actual :  this  is  what  World-History,  if  it  teach  anything,  has 
to  teach  us.  How  they  grow ;  and,  after  long  stormy  growth, 
bloom  out  mature,  supreme;  then  quickly  (for  the  blossom  is 
brief)  fall  into  decay  ;  sorrowfully  dwindle  ;  and  crumble  down, 
or  rush  down,  noisily  or  noiselessly  disappearing.  The  blossom 
is  so  brief ;  as  of  some  centennial  Cactus-flower,  which  after  a 
century  of  waiting  shines  out  for  hours!  Thus  from  the  day 
when  rough  Clovis,  in  the  Champ  de  Mars,  in  sight  of  his 
whole  army,  had  to  cleave  retributively  the  head  of  that  rough 
Frank,  with  sudden  battle-axe,  and  the  fierce  words,  "  It  was 


1744—74]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  ii 

thus  thou  clavest  the  vase  "  (St.  Remi's  and  mine)  "at  Sois- 
sons,"  forward  to  Louis  the  Grand  and  his  L'Etat  c'est  moi,  we 
count  some  twelve  hundred  years :  and  now  this  the  very  next 
Louis  is  dying,  and  so  much  dying  with  him ! — Nay,  thus  too, 
if  CathoHcism,  with  and  against  Feudahsm,  but  not  against 
Nature  and  her  bounty),  gave  us  Enghsh  a  Shakspeare  and 
Era  of  Shakspeare,  and  so  produced  a  blossom  of  Catholicism 
— it  was  not  till  Catholicism  itself,  so  far  as  Law  could  abolish 
it,  had  been  abolished  here. 

But  of  those  decadent  ages  in  which  no  Ideal  either  grows 
or  blossoms  ?  When  Belief  and  Loyalty  have  passed  away,  and 
only  the  cant  and  false  echo  of  them  remains ;  and  all  Solem- 
nity has  become  Pageantry ;  and  the  Creed  of  persons  in  author- 
ity has  become  one  of  two  things :  An  Imbecility  or  a  Mac- 
chiavelism?  Alas,  of  these  ages  World-History  can  take  no 
notice ;  they  have  to  become  compressed  more  and  more,  and 
finally  suppressed  in  the  Annals  of  Mankind ;  blotted  out  as 
spurious — which  indeed  they  are.  Hapless  ages :  wherein,  if 
ever  in  any,  it  is  unhappiness  to  be  born.  To  be  born,  and 
to  learn  only,  by  every  tradition  and  example,  that  God's  Uni- 
verse is  Belial's  and  a  Lie;  and  "the  Supreme  Quack"  the 
hierarch  of  men !  In  which  mournfulest  faith,  nevertheless,  do 
we  not  see  whole  generations  (two,  and  sometimes  even  three 
successively)  live,  what  they  call  living;  and  vanish — without 
chance  of  reappearance? 

In  such  a  decadent  age,  or  one  fast  verging  that  way,  had 
our  poor  Louis  been  born.  Grant  also  that  if  the  French  King- 
ship had  not,  by  course  of  Nature,  long  to  live,  he  of  all  men 
was  the  man  to  accelerate  Nature.  The  Blossom  of  French 
Royalty,  cactus-like,  has  accordingly  made  an  astonishing  prog- 
ress. In  those  Metz  days,  it  was  still  standing  with  all  its 
petals,  though  bedimmed  by  Orleans  Regents  and  Roitc  Minis- 
ters and  Cardinals;  but  now,  in  1774,  we  behold  it  bald,  and 
the  virtue  nigh  gone  out  of  it. 

Disastrous  indeed  docs  it  look  with  those  same  "  realized 
ideals,"  one  and  all !  The  Church,  which  in  its  palmy  season, 
seven  hundred  years  ago,  could  make  an  Emperor  wait  bare- 
foot, in  penance-shirt,  three  days,  in  the  snow,  has  for  centuries 
seen  itself  decaying;  reduced  even  to  forget  old  purposes  and 
enmities,  and  join  interest  with  the  Kingship:  on  this  younger 
strength  it  would  fain  stay  its  decrepitude ;   and  these  two  will 


12  CARLYLE  [1744—74 

4  henceforth  stand  and  fall  together.  Alas,  the  Sorbonne  still  sits 
there,  in  its  old  mansion;  but  mumbles  only  jargon  of  dotage, 
and  no  longer  leads  the  consciences  of  men :  not  the  Sorbonne  ; 
it  is  Encyclopcdics,  Philosophic,  and  who  knows  what  nameless 
innumerable  multitude  of  ready  Writers,  profane  Singers,  Ro- 
mancers, Players,  Disputators,  and  Pamphleteers,  that  now 
form  the  Spiritual  Guidance  of  the  world.  The  world's  Practical 
Guidance  too  is  lost,  or  has  glided  into  the  same  miscellaneous 
hands.  Who  is  it  that  the  King  {Able-man,  named  also  Roi, 
Rex,  or  Director)  now  guides?  His  own  huntsmen  and 
prickers :  when  there  is  to  be  no  hunt,  it  is  well  said,  "  Le  Roi 
ne  fera  rien  (To-day  his  Majesty  will  do  nothing). ''a  He  livej 
and  lingers  there,  because  he  is  living  there,  and  none  has  yet 
laid  hands  on  him. 

The  nobles,  in  like  manner,  have  nearly  ceased  either  to 
guide  or  misguide ;  and  are  now,  as  their  master  is,  little  more 
than  ornamental  figures.  It  is  long  since  they  have  done  with 
butchering  one  another  or  their  king :  the  Workers,  protected, 
encouraged  by  Majesty,  have  ages  ago  built  walled  towns,  and 
there  ply  their  craft ;  will  permit  no  Robber  Baron  to  "  live  by 
the  saddle,"  but  maintain  a  gallows  to  prevent  it.  Ever  since 
that  period  of  the  Fronde,  the  Noble  has  changed  his  fighting 
sword  into  a  court  rapier ;  and  now  loyally  attends  his  king  as 
ministering  satellite ;  divides  the  spoil,  not  now  by  violence  and 
murder,  but  by  soliciting  and  finesse.  These  men  call  them- 
selves supports  of  the  throne :  singular  gilt-pasteboard  carya- 
tides in  that  singular  edifice!  For  the  rest,  their  privileges 
every  way  are  now  much  curtailed.  That  Law  authorizing  a 
Seigneur,  as  he  returned  from  hunting,  to  kill  not  more  than 
two  Serfs,  and  refresh  his  feet  in  their  warm  blood  and  bowels, 
has  fallen  into  perfect  desuetude — and  even  into  incredibility ; 
for  if  Deputy  Lapoule  can  believe  in  it,  and  call  for  the  abroga- 
tion of  it,  so  cannot  we.&  No  Charolois,  for  these  last  fifty  years, 
though  never  so  fond  of  shooting,  has  been  in  use  to  bring  down 
slaters  and  plumbers,  and  see  them  roll  from  their  roofs  ;c  but 
contents  himself  with  partridges  and  grouse.     Close-viewed, 

a  Mcmoires  sur  la  Vie  privee  de  Marie  Antoinette,  par  Madame  Cam- 
pan   (Paris,  1826),  i.  12. 

b  Histoirc  dc  la  Revolution  Franqaise,  par  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberie 
(Paris,  1792),  ii.  212. 

c  Lacretelle,  Histoirc  de  France  pendant  Ic  iSine  Sidcle  (Paris,  1819), 
i.  271. 


1744—74]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  13 

their  industry  and  function  is  that  of  dressing  gracefully  and 
eating  sumptuously.  As  for  their  debauchery  and  depravity, 
it  is  perhaps  unexampled  since  the  era  of  Tiberius  and  Com- 
modus.  Nevertheless,  one  has  still  partly  a  feeling  with  the 
lady  Marechale :  "  Depend  upon  it,  Sir,  God  thinks  twice 
before  damning  a  man  of  that  quality."^  These  people,  of 
old,  surely  had  virtues,  uses;  or  they  could  not  have  been 
there.  Nay,  one  virtue  they  are  still  required  to  have  (for 
mortal  man  cannot  live  without  a  conscience)  :  the  virtue  of 
perfect  readiness  to  fight  duels. 

Such  are  the  shepherds  of  the  people :  and  now  how  fares 
it  with  the  flock?  With  the  flock,  as  is  inevitable,  it  fares  ill, 
and  ever  worse.  They  are  not  tended,  they  are  only  regularly 
shorn.  The)'  are  sent  for,  to  do  statute-labor,  to  pay  statute- 
taxes;  to  fatten  battle-fields  (named  "bed  of  honor")  with 
their  bodies,  in  quarrels  which  are  not  theirs ;  their  hand  and 
toil  is  in  every  possession  of  man ;  but  for  themselves  they 
have  little  or  no  possession.  Untaught,  uncomforted,  unfed ; 
to  pine  stagnantly  in  thick  obscuration,  in  squalid  destitution 
and  obstruction :  this  is  the  lot  of  the  millions ;  peuple  taillabic 
et  corveahle  a  merci  et  miscricorde.  In  Brittany  they  once  rose 
in  revolt  at  the  first  introduction  of  Pendulum  Clocks  ;  thinking 
it  had  something  to  do  with  the  Gabelle.  Paris  requires  to  be 
cleared  out  periodically  by  the  Police  ;  and  the  horde  of  hunger- 
stricken  vagabonds  to  be  sent  wandering  again  over  space — 
for  a  time.  ''  During  one  such  periodical  clearance,"  says 
Lacretelle,  "  in  May,  1750,  the  Police  had  presumed  withal  to 
carry  off  some  reputable  people's  children,  in  the  hope  of  ex- 
torting ransoms  for  them.  The  mothers  fill  the  public  places 
with  cries  of  despair ;  crowds  gather,  get  excited ;  so  many 
women  in  distraction  run  about  exaggerating  the  alarm :  an 
absurd  and  horrid  fable  rises  among  the  people ;  it  is  said 
that  the  doctors  have  ordered  a  Great  Person  to  take  baths  of 
young  human  blood  for  the  restoration  of  his  own,  all  spoiled 
by  debaucheries.  Some  of  the  rioters,"  adds  Lacretelle,  quite 
coolly,  "  were  hanged  on  the  following  days :"  the  Police  went 
on."^  O  ye  poor  naked  wretches !  and  this,  then,  is  your  inar- 
ticulate cry  to  Heaven,  as  of  a  dumb  tortured  animal,  crying 
from  uttermost  depths  of  pain  and  debasement?  Do  these 
azure  skies,  like  a  dead  crystalline  vault,  only  reverberate  the 
d  Dulaure,  vii.  261.  e  Lacretelle,  iii.  175. 


^>: 


t4  CARLYLE  [1744-74 

echo  of  it  on  you?  Respond  to  it  only  by  "hanging  on  the 
following  days  "  ? — Not  so :  not  forever !  Ye  are  heard  in 
Heaven.  And  the  answer  too  will  come — in  a  horror  of  great 
darkness,  and  shakings  of  the  world,  and  a  cup  of  trembling 
which  all  the  nations  shall  drink. 

Remark,  meanwhile,  how  from  amid  the  wrecks  and  dust 
of  this  universal  Decay  new  Powers  are  fashioning  them- 
selves, adapted  to  the  new  time  and  its  destinies.  Besides  the 
old  Noblesse,  originally  of  Fighters,  there  is  a  new  recog- 
nized Noblesse  of  Lawyers ;  whose  gala-day  and  proud  battle- 
day  even  now  is.  An  unrecognized  Noblesse  of  Commerce ; 
powerful  enough,  with  money  in  its  pocket.  Lastly,  power- 
fulest  of  all,  least  recognized  of  all,  a  Noblesse  of  Literature ; 
without  steel  on  their  thigh,  without  gold  in  their  purse,  but 
with  the  "  grand  thaumaturgic  faculty  of  Thought "  in  their 
head.  French  Philosophism  has  arisen ;  in  which  little  word 
how  much  do  we  include !  Here,  indeed,  lies  properly  the 
cardinal  symptom  of  the  whole  widespread  malady.  Faith  is 
gone  out;  Scepticism  is  come  in.  Evil  abounds  and  accumu- 
lates ;  no  man  has  Faith  to  withstand  it,  to  amend  it,  to  begin 
by  amending  himself ;  it  must  even  go  on  accumulating.  While 
hollow  languor  and  vacuity  is  the  lot  of  the  Upper,  and  want 
and  stagnation  of  the  Lower,  and  universal  misery  is  very  cer- 
tain, what  other  thing  is  certain?  That  a  Lie  cannot  be  be- 
lieved !  Philosophism  knows  only  this :  her  other  belief  is 
mainly,  that  in  spiritual  supersensual  matters  no  Belief  is 
possible.  Unhappy!  Nay,  as  yet  the  Contradiction  of  a  Lie 
is  some  kind  of  a  Belief;  but  the  Lie  with  its  Contradiction 
once  swept  away,  what  will  remain?  The  five  unsatiated 
Senses  will  remain,  the  sixth  insatiable  Sense  (of  vanity)  ; 
the  whole  dccmonic  nature  of  man  will  remain — hurled  forth 
to  rage  blindly  without  rule  or  rein ;  savage  itself,  yet  with 
all  the  tools  and  weapons  of  civilization:  a  spectacle  new  in 
History. 

In  such  a  France,  as  in  a  Powder-tower,  where  fire  un- 
quenched  and  now  unquenchable  is  smoking  and  smoulder- 
ing all  round,  has  Louis  XV.  lain  down  to  die.  With  Pom- 
padourism  and  Dubarryism,  his  Fleur-de-lis  has  been  shame- 
fully struck  down  in  all  lands  and  on  all  seas ;  Poverty  in- 
vades even  the  Royal  Exchequer,  and  Tax-farming  can  squeeze 
out  no  more ;  there  is  a  quarrel  of  twenty-five  years'  standing 


1774]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  15 

,„     with  the  Parlement ;  everywhere  Want,  Dishonesty,  UnbeHef, 
"tK  and  hotbrained^Sciolists  for  state-physicians:    it  is  a  porten- 
tous hour. 

Such  things  can  the  eye  of  History  see  in  this  sick-room  of 
King  Louis,  which  were  invisible  to  the  Courtiers  there.  It  is 
twenty  years,  gone  Christmas-day,  since  Lord  Chesterfield, 
summing  up  what  he  had  noted  of  this  same  France,  wrote, 
and  sent  off  by  post,  the  following  words,  that  have  become 
memorable :  "  In  short,  all  the  symptoms  which  I  have  ever 
met  with  in  History,  previous  to  great  Changes  and  Revolu- 
tions in  Government,  now  exist  and  daily  increase  in  France."/' 


Chapter  III. — Viaticum. 

For  the  present,  however,  the  grand  question  with  the 
Governors  of  France  is :  Shall  extreme  unction,  or  other 
ghostly  viaticum  (to  Louis,  not  to  France)  be  administered? 

It  is  a  deep  question.  For,  if  administered,  if  so  much  as 
spoken  of,  must  not,  on  the  very  threshold  of  the  business. 
Witch  Dubarry  vanish ;  hardly  to  return  should  Louis  even 
recover?  With  her  vanishes  Duke  d'Aiguillon  and  Company,-! 
and  all  their  Armida-Palace,  as  was  said ;  Chaos  swallows  the  I 
whole  again,  and  there  is  left  nothing  but  a  smell  of  brimstone. 
But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  what  will  the  Dauphinists  and 
Choiseulists  say?  Nay  what  may  the  royal  martyr  himself 
say,  should  he  happen  to  get  deadly  worse,  without  getting 
delirious  ?  For  the  present,  he  still  kisses  the  Dubarry  hand ; 
so  we,  from  the  anteroom,  can  note:  but  afterwards?  Doctors' 
bulletins  may  run  as  they  are  ordered,  but  it  is  "  confluent 
small-pox  " — of  which,  as  is  whispered  too,  the  Gatekeeper's 
once  so  buxom  Daughter  lies  ill :  and  Louis  XV.  is  not  a  man 
to  be  trifled  with  in  his  viaticum.  Was  he  not  wont  to  catechise 
his  very  girls  in  the  Parc-aux-cerfs,  and  pray  with  and  for 
them,  tliat  they  might  preserve  their — orthodoxy  ?g  A  strange 
fact,  not  an  unexampled  one ;  for  there  is  no  animal  so  strange 
as  man. 

For  the  moment,  indeed,  it  were  all  well,  could  Archbishop 
Beaumont  but  be  prevailed  upon — to  wink  with  one  eye !  Alas, 
Beaumont  would  himself  so  fain  do  it:    for,  singular  to  tell, 

/Chesterfield's  Letters:  December  25th,  1753. 
g  Dulaure  (viii.  217)  ;  Besenval,  &c. 


1 6  CARLYLE  [i774 

the  Church  too,  and  whole  posthumous  hope  of  Jesuitism,  now 
hangs  by  the  apron  of  this  same  unmentionable  woman.  But 
then  "  the  force  of  public  opinion  "  ?  Rigorous  Christophe  de 
Beaumont,  who  has  spent  his  life  in  persecuting  hysterical 
Jansenists  and  incredulous  Non-confessors ;  or  even  their  dead 
bodies,  if  no  better  might  be — how  shall  he  now  open  Heaven's 
gate,  and  give  Absolution  with  the  corpus  delicti  still  under  his 
nose?  Our  Grand-Almoner  Roche- Aymon,  for  his  part,  will 
not  higgle  with  a  royal  sinner  about  turning  of  the  key:  but 
there  are  other  Churchmen;  there  is  a  King's  Confessor, 
foolish  Abbe  Moudon ;  and  Fanaticism  and  Decency  are  not 
yet  extinct.  On  the  whole,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  The  doors  can 
be  well  watched;  the  Medical  Bulletin  adjusted;  and  much, 
as  usual,  be  hoped  for  from  time  and  chance. 

The  doors  are  well  watched,  no  improper  figure  can  enter. 
Indeed,  few  wish  to  enter ;  for  the  putrid  infection  reaches 
even  to  the  CEil-de-Bccuf ;  so  that  "  more  than  fifty  fall  sick, 
and  ten  die."  Mesdames  the  Princesses  alone  wait  at  the 
loathsome  sick-bed ;  impelled  by  filial  pity.  The  three  Prin- 
cesses, Graille,  Chiffe,  Coche  (Rag,  Snip,  Pig,  as  he  was  wont 
to  name  them),  are  assiduous  there;  when  all  have  fled.  The 
fourth  Princess,  Loqiie  (Dud),  as  we  guess,  is  already  in  the 
Nunnery,  and  can  only  give  her  orisons.  Poor  Graille  and 
Sisterhood,  they  have  never  known  a  Father ;  such  is  the  hard 
bargain  Grandeur  must  make.  Scarcely  at  the  D chatter  (when 
Royalty  took  off  its  boots)  could  they  snatch  up  their  "  enor- 
mous hoops,  gird  the  long  train  round  their  waists,  huddle 
on  their  black  cloaks  of  taffeta  up  to  the  very  chin ;"  and  so, 
in  fit  appearance  of  full  dress,  "  every  evening  at  six,"  walk 
majestically  in;  receive  their  royal  kiss  on  the  brow;  and 
then  walk  majestically  out  again,  to  embroidery,  small-scandal, 
prayers,  and  vacancy.  If  Majesty  came  some  morning,  with 
coffee  of  its  own  making,  and  swallowed  it  with  them  hastily 
while  the  dogs  were  uncoupling  for  the  hunt,  it  was  received 
as  a  grace  of  Heaven. ^t  Poor  withered  ancient  women !  in 
the  wild  tossings  that  yet  await  your  fragile  existence,  be- 
fore it  be  crushed  and  broken ;  as  ye  fly  through  hostile 
countries,  over  tempestuous  seas,  are  almost  taken  by  the 
Turks ;  and  wholly,  in  the  Sansculottic  Earthquake,  know  not 
your  right  hand  from  your  left,  be  this  always  an  assured  place 

h  Campan,  i.  11-36. 


'^^- 


1774]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  17 

in  your  remembrance :  for  the  act  was  good  and  loving !  To 
us  also  it  is  a  little  sunny  spot,  in  that  dismal  howling  waste, 
where  we  hardly  find  another. 

Meanwhile,  what  shall  an  impartial  prudent  Courtier  do? 
In  these  delicate  circumstances,  while  not  only  death  or  life, 
but  even  sacrament  or  no  sacrament,  is  a  question,  the  skil- 
fulest  may  falter.  Few  are  so  happy  as  the  Duke  d'Orleans 
and  the  Prince  de  Conde ;  who  can  themselves,  with  volatile 
salts,  attend  the  King's  antechamber;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
send  their  brave  sons  (Duke  de  Chartres,  Egalitc  that  is  to  be ; 
Duke  de  Bourbon,  one  day  Conde  too,  and  famous  among 
Dotards)  to  wait  upon  the  Dauphin.  With  another  few,  it  is 
a  resolution  taken  ;  jacta  est  alea.  Old  Richelieu — w^hen  Arch- 
bishop Beaumont,  driven  by  public  opinion,  is  at  last  for  en- 
tering the  sick-room — will  twitch  him  by  the  rochet,  into  a 
recess ;  and  there,  with  his  old  dissipated  mastiff-face,  and  the 
oiliest  vehemence,  be  seen  pleading  (and  even,  as  we  judge 
by  Beaumont's  change  of  color,  prevailing)  "  that  the  King 
be  not  killed  by  a  proposition  in  Divinity."  Duke  de  Fronsac, 
son  of  Richelieu,  can  follow  his  father:  when  the  Cure  of 
Versailles  whimpers  something  about  sacraments,  he  will 
threaten  to  "  throw  him  out  of  the  window  if  he  mention  such 
a  thing." 

Happy  these,  we  may  say;  but  to  the  rest  that  hover  be- 
tween two  opinions,  is  it  not  trying?  He  who  would  under- 
stand to  what  a  pass  Catholicism,  and  much  else,  had  now  got ; 
and  how  the  symbols  of  the  Holiest  have  become  gambling- 
dice  of  the  Basest — must  read  the  narrative  of  those  things 
by  Besenval,  and  Soulavie,  and  the  other  Court  Newsmen  of  the 
time.  He  will  see  the  Versailles  Galaxy  all  scattered  asunder, 
grouped  into  new  ever-shifting  Constellations.  There  are  nods 
and  sagacious  glances ;  go-betweens,  silk  dowagers  mysteri- 
ously gliding,  with  smiles  for  this  constellation,  sighs  for  that: 
there  is  tremor,  of  hope  or  desperation,  in  several  hearts.  There 
is  the  pale  grinning  Shadow  of  Death,  ceremoniously  ushered 
along  by  another  grinning  Shadow,  of  Etiquette :  at  intervals 
the  growl  of  Chapel  Organs,  like  prayer  by  machinery ;  pro- 
claiming, as  in  a  kind  of  horrid  diabolic  horse-laughter,  Vanity 
of  vanities,  all  is  Vanity! 


Vol.  I.— 2 


l8  CARLYLE  [1774 


Chapter  IV. — Louis  the  Unforgotten. 

Poor  Louis !  With  these  it  is  a  hollow  phantasmagory,  where 
like  mimes  they  mope  and  mowl,  and  utter  false  sounds  for 
hire ;    but  with  thee  it  is  frightful  earnest. 

Frightful  to  all  men  is  Death ;  from  an  old  named  King 
of  Terrors.  Our  little  compact  home  of  an  Existence,  where 
we  dwelt  complaining,  yet  as  in  a  home,  is  passing,  in  dark 
agonies,  into  an  Unknown  of  Separation,  Foreignness,  uncon- 
ditioned Possibility.  The  Heathen  Emperor  asks  of  his  soul: 
Into  what  places  art  thou  now  departing?  The  Catholic  King 
must  answer :  To  the  Judgment-bar  of  the  Most  High  God ! 
Yes,  it  is  a  summing-up  of  Life ;  a  final  settling,  and  giving-in 
the  "  account  of  the  deeds  done  in  the  body ;"  they  are  done 
now ;  and  lie  there  unalterable,  and  do  bear  their  fruits,  long 
as  Eternity  shall  last. 

Louis  XV  had  always  the  kingliest  abhorrence  of  Death. 
Unlike  that  praying  Duke  of  Orleans,  Egalite's  grandfather — 
for  indeed  several  of  them  had  a  touch  of  madness — who 
honestly  believed  that  there  was  no  Death !  He,  if  the  Court 
Newsmen  can  be  believed,  started  up  once  on  a  time,  glowing 
with  sulphurous  contempt  and  indignation  on  his  poor  Secre- 
tary, who  had  stumbled  on  the  words,  fen  rot  d'Espagne  (the 
late  King  of  Spain)  :  "  Feu  roi.  Monsieur?" — "  Monseigneur," 
hastily  answered  the  trembling  but  adroit  man  of  business, 
" c'est  tin  litre  qn'ils  prennent  ('tis  a  title  they  take). "a  Louis, 
we  say,  was  not  so  happy ;  but  he  did  what  he  could.  He 
would  not  suffer  Death  to  be  spoken  of ;  avoided  the  sight 
of  churchyards,  funereal  monuments,  and  whatsoever  could 
bring  it  to  mind.  It  is  the  resource  of  the  Ostrich ;  who, 
hard  hunted,  sticks  his  foolish  head  in  the  ground,  and  would 
fain  forget  that  his  foolish  unseeing  body  is  not  unseen  too.  Or 
sometimes,  with  a  spasmodic  antagonism,  significant  of  the 
same  thing,  and  of  more,  he  zvould  go;  or  stopping  his  court 
carriages,  would  send  into  churchyards,  and  ask  "  how  many 
new  graves  there  were  to-day,"  though  it  gave  his  poor  Pom- 
padour the  disagreeablest  qualms.  We  can  figure  the  thought 
of  Louis  that  day,  when,  all  royally  caparisoned  for  hunting,  ( 
he  met,  at  some  sudden  turning  in  the  Wood  of  Senart,  a' 

a  Besenval,  i.  199. 


1774]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  19 

ragged  Peasant  with  a  cofifin :  "  For  whom  ?  " — It  was  for  a 
poor  brother  slave,  whom  Majesty  had  sometimes  noticed  slav- 
ing in  those  quarters.  "  What  did  he  die  of?  " — "  Of  hunger:" 
— the  King  gave  his  steed  the  spur.fr 

But  figure  his  thought,  when  Death  is  now  clutching  at  his 
own  heart-strings  ;  unlocked  for,  inexorable  !  Yes,  poor  Louis, 
Death  has  found  thee.  No  palace  walls  or  life-guards,  gorgeous 
tapestries  or  gilt  buckram  of  stififest  ceremonial  could  keep  him 
out;  but  he  is  here,  here  at  thy  very  life-breath,  and  will  ex- 
tinguish it.  Thou,  whose  whole  existence  hitherto  was  a 
chimera  and  scenic  show,  at  length  becomest  a  reality :  sump- 
tuous Versailles  burst  asunder,  like  a  dream,  into  void  Im- 
mensity ;  Time  is  done,  and  all  the  scaffolding  of  Time  falls 
wrecked  with  hideous  clangor  round  thy  soul :  the  pale  King- 
doms yawn  open ;  there  must  thou  enter,  naked,  all  unking'd, 
and  await  what  is  appointed  thee!  Unhappy  man,  there  as 
thou  turnest,  in  dull  agony,  on  thy  bed  of  weariness,  what  a 
thought  is  thine !  Purgatory  and  Hell-fire,  now  ail-too  pos- 
sible, in  the  prospect :  in  the  retrospect — alas,  what  thing  didst 
thou  do  that  were  not  better  undone ;  what  mortal  didst  thou 
generously  help;  what  sorrow  hadst  thou  mercy  on?  Do  the 
"  five  hundred  thousand  "  ghosts,  who  sank  shamefully  on  so 
many  battle-fields  from  Rossbach  to  Quebec,  that  thy  Harlot 
might  take  revenge  for  an  epigram — crowd  round  thee  in 
this  hour?  Thy  foul  Harem;  the  curses  of  mothers,  the  tears 
and  infamy  of  daughters?  Miserable  man!  thou  "hast  done 
evil  as  thou  couldst:"  thy  whole  existence  seems  one  hideous 
abortion  and  mistake  of  Nature;  the  use  and  meaning  of 
thee  not  yet  known.  Wert  thou  a  fabulous  Griffin,  devouring 
the  works  of  men  ;  daily  dragging  virgins  to  thy  cave ; — clad 
also  in  scales  that  no  spear  would  pierce :  no  spear  but  Death's  ? 
A  Grifiin  not  fabulous  but  real !  Frightful,  O  Louis,  seem  n 
these  moments  for  thee. — We  will  pry  no  further  into  the  hor-  ' 
rors  of  a  sinner's  deathbed. 

And  yet  let  no  meanest  man  lay  flattering  unction  to  his 
soul.  Louis  was  a  Ruler;  but  art  not  thou  also  one?  His  wide 
France,  look  at  it  from  the  Fixed  Stars  (themselves  not  yet 
Infinitude),  is  no  wider  than  thy  narrow  brickfield,  where 
thou  too  didst  faithfully,  or  didst  unfaithfully.  Man.  "  Sym- 
bol of  Eternity  imprisoned  into  Time !  "  it  is  not  thy  works, 

b  Campan,  iii.  39. 


20  CARLYLE  [i774 

which  are  all  mortal,  infinitely  little,  and  the  greatest  no  greater 
than  the  least,  but  only  the  Spirit  thou  workest  in,  that  can 
have  worth  or  continuance. 

But  reflect,  in  any  case,  what  a  life-problem  this  of  poor 
Louis,  when  he  rose  as  Bicn-Aime  from  that  Metz  sick-bed, 
really  was !  What  son  of  Adam  could  have  swayed  such  in- 
coherences into  coherence?  Could  he?  Blindest  fortune  alone 
has  cast  Jiirn  on  the  top  of  it :  he  swims  there ;  can  as  little 
sway  it  as  the  drift-log  sways  the  wind-tossed  moon  stirred 
Atlantic.  "  What  have  I  done  to  be  so  loved  ?  "  he  said  then. 
He  may  say  now :  What  have  I  done  to  be  so  hated  ?  Thou  ^ 
hast  done  nothing,  poor  Louis !  Thy  fault  is  properly  even 
this,  that  thou  didst  nothing.  What  could  poor  Louis  do?  Ab- 
dicate, and  wash  his  hands  of  it — in  favor  of  the  first  that  would 
accept!  Other  clear  wisdom  there  was  none  for  him.  As  it- 
was,  he  stood  gazing  dubiously,  the  absurdest  mortal  extant, 
a  very  Solecism  Incarnate,  into  the  absurdest  confused  world ; 
— wherein  at  last  nothing  seemed  so  certain  as  this.  That 
he,  the  incarnate  Solecism,  had  five  senses ;  that  there  were 
Flying  Tables  {Tables  Volantes,  which  vanish  through  the 
floor,  to  come  back  reloaded),  and  a  Parc-aux-cerfs. 

Whereby  at  least  we  have  again  this  historical  curiosity :  a 
human  being  in  an  original  position ;  swimming  passively,  as 
on  some  boundless  "  Mother  of  Dead  Dogs,"  towards  issues 
which  he  partly  saw.  For  Louis  had  withal  a  kind  of  insight 
in  him.  So,  when  a  new  Minister  of  Marine,  or  what  else  it 
might  be,  came  announcing  his  new  era,  the  Scarlet- woman 
would  hear  from  the  lips  of  Majesty  at  supper:  "Yes,  he 
spread  out  his  ware  like  another;  promised  the  beautifulest 
things  in  the  world ;  not  a  thing  of  which  will  come :  he  does 
not  know  this  region;  he  will  see."  Or  again:  " 'Tis  the 
twentieth  time  I  have  heard  all  that ;  France  will  never  get 
a  Navy,  I  believe."  How  touching  also  was  this:  "  If  /  were 
Lieutenant  of  Police,  I  would  prohibit  those  Paris  cabriolets."'^  J 

Doomed  mortal ; — for  is  it  not  a  doom  to  be  Solecism  in- 
carnate !  A  new  Roi  Faineant,  King  Donothing ;  but  with  the 
strangest  new  Mayor  of  the  Palace:  no  bow-legged  Pepin 
now  for  Mayor,  but  that  same  cloud-capt,  fire-breathing  Spectre 
of  Democracy  ;    incalculable,  which  is  enveloping  the  world ! 

Was  Louis,  then,  no  wickeder  than  this  or  the  other  pri- 

c  Journal  dc  Madame  de  Hausset,  p.  293,  &c. 


1774]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  21 

vate  Donothing  and  Eatall ;  such  as  we  often  enough  see, 
under  the  name  of  Man  of  Pleasure,  cumbering  God's  diHgent 
Creation,  for  a  time?  Say,  wretcheder!  His  Life-solecism 
was  seen  and  felt  of  a  whole  scandalized  world;  him  endless 
Oblivion  cannot  engulf,  and  swallow  to  endless  depths — not 
yet  for  a  generation  or  two. 

However,  be  this  as  it  will,  we  remark,  not  without  interest, 
that  "  on  the  evening  of  the  4th,"  Dame  Dubarry  issues  from 
the  sick-room,  with  perceptible  "  trouble  in  her  visage."  It 
is  the  fourth  evening  of  May,  year  of  Grace  1774.  Such  a 
whispering  in  the  CEil-de-Boeuf  I  Is  he  dying,  then?  What 
can  be  said  is,  that  Dubarry  seems  making  up  her  packages ; 
she  sails  weeping  through  her  gilt  boudoirs,  as  if  taking  leave. 
D'Aiguillon  and  Company  are  near  their  last  card ;  never- 
theless they  will  not  yet  throw  up  the  game.  But  as  for  the 
sacramental  controversy,  it  is  as  good  as  settled  without  being 
mentioned ;  Louis  sends  for  his  Abbe  Moudon  in  the  course-^ 
of  the  next  night ;  is  confessed  by  him,  some  say  for  the  space 
of  "  seventeen  minutes,"  and  demands  the  sacraments  of  his 
own  accord. 

Nay  already,  in  the  afternoon,  behold  is  not  this  your  Sor- 
ceress Dubarry  with  the  handkerchief  at  her  eyes,  mounting 
D'Aiguillon's  chariot ;  rolling  ofif  in  his  Duchess's  consolatory 
arms  ?  She  is  gone ;  and  her  place  knows  her  no  more.  Vanish, 
false  Sorceress ;  into  Space !  Needless  to  hover  at  neighbor- 
ing Ruel ;  for  thy  day  is  done.  Shut  are  the  royal  palace- 
gates  for  evermore ;  hardly  in  coming  years  shalt  thou,  under 
cloud  of  night,  descend  once,  in  black  domino,  like  a  black 
night-bird,  and  disturb  the  fair  Antoinette's  music-party  in 
the  Park ;  all  Birds  of  Paradise  frying  from  thee,  and  musical 
windpipes  growing  mute.'^  Thou  unclean,  yet  unmalignant, 
not  unpitiable  thing!  What  a  course  was  thine:  from  that 
first  trucklebcd  (in  Joan  of  Arc's  country)  where  thy  mother 
bore  thee,  with  tears,  to  an  unnamed  father :  forward,  through 
lowest  subterranean  depths,  and  over  highest  sunlit  heights, 
of  Harlotdom  and  Rascaldom — to  the  guillotine-axe,  which 
shears  away  thy  vainly  whimpering  head !  Rest  there 
uncursed ;  only  buried  and  abolished :  what  else  befitted 
thee? 

Louis,  meanwhile,  is  in  considerable  impatience  for  his  sacra- 

d  Campan,  i.  197. 


2  2  CARLYLE  [1774 

ments ;  sends  more  than  once  to  the  window,  to  see  whether 
they  are  not  coming.  Be  of  comfort,  Louis,  what  comfort  thou 
canst:  they  are  under  way,  those  sacraments.  Towards  six 
in  the  morning,  they  arrive.  Cardinal  Grand-Almoner  Roche- 
Aymon  is  here  in  pontificals,  with  his  pyxes  and  his  tools :  he 
approaches  the  royal  pillow :  elevates  his  wafer,  mutters  or 
seems  to  mutter  somewhat; — and  so  (as  the  Abbe  Georgel, 
in  words  that  stick  to  one,  expresses  it)  has  Louis  "  made  the 
amende  honorable  to  God :"  so  does  your  Jesuit  construe  it. — 
"  IVa,  IVa,"  as  the  wild  Clotaire  groaned  out,  when  life  was 
departing,  "  what  great  God  is  this  that  pulls  down  the  strength 
of  the  strongest  kings !  "e 

The  amende  honorable,  what  "  legal  apology  "  you  will,  to 
God : — but  not,  if  D'Aiguillon  can  help  it,  to  man.  Dubarry 
still  hovers  in  his  mansion  at  Ruel ;  and  while  there  is  life, 
there  is  hope.  Grand-Almoner  Roche-Aymon,  accordingly 
(for  he  seems  to  be  in  the  secret),  has  no  sooner  seen  his 
pyxes  and  gear  repacked,  than  he  is  stepping  majestically  forth 
again,  as  if  the  work  were  done !  But  King's  Confessor  Abbe 
Moudon  starts  forward ;  with  anxious  acidulent  face,  twitches 
him  by  the  sleeve ;  whispers  in  his  ear.  Whereupon  the  poor 
Cardinal  has  to  turn  round ;  and  declare  audibly,  "  That  his 
Majesty  repents  of  any  subjects  of  scandal  he  may  have  given 
(a  pu  donner)  ;  and  purposes,  by  the  strength  of  Heaven  assist- 
ing him,  to  avoid  the  like — for  the  future !  "  Words  listened  to 
by  Richelieu  with  mastifif-face,  growing  blacker ;  and  answered 
to,  aloud,  "  with  an  epithet  " — which  Besenval  will  not  repeat. 
Old  Richelieu,  conqueror  of  Minorca,  companion  of  Flying- 
Table  orgies,  perforator  of  bed-room  walls,/"  is  thy  day  also 
done? 

Alas,  the  Chapel  organs  may  keep  going ;  the  Shrine  of 
Sainte-Genevieve  be  let  down,  and  pulled  up  again — without 
effect.  In  the  evening  the  whole  Court,  with  Dauphin  and 
Dauphiness,  assist  at  the  Chapel :  priests  are  hoarse  with  chant- 
ing their  "  Prayers  of  Forty  Hours ;"  and  the  heaving  bellows 
blow.  Almost  frightful !  For  the  very  heaven  blackens ; 
battering  rain-torrents  dash,  with  thunder ;  almost  drowning 
the  organ's  voice:  and  electric  fire-flashes  make  the  very 
flambeaux  on  the  altar  pale.    So  that  the  most,  as  we  are  told, 

<r  Gregorius  Turonensis,  Histor.  lib.  iv.  cap.  21. 
/Besenval,  i.  159-172.     Genlis;  Due  de  Levis,  &c. 


May  lo,  1774]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  23 

retired,  when  it  was  over,  with  hurried  steps,  "  in  a  state  of 
meditation  {rccueillement),"  and  said  Httle  or  nothing.g 

So  it  has  lasted  for  the  better  half  of  a  fortnight;  the  Du- 
barry  gone  almost  a  week.  Besenval  says,  all  the  world  was 
getting  impatient  que  cela  finit;  that  poor  Louis  would  have 
done  with  it.  It  is  now  the  loth  of  May,  1774.  He  will  soon 
have  done  now. 

This  tenth  May  day  falls  into  the  loathsome  sick-bed;  but 
dull,  unnoticed  there :  for  they  that  look  out  of  the  windows 
are  quite  darkened ;  the  cistern-wheel  moves  discordant  on  its 
axis ;  Life,  like  a  spent  steed,  is  panting  towards  the  goal. 
In  their  remote  apartments,  Dauphin  and  Dauphiness  stand 
road-ready ;  all  grooms  and  equerries  booted  and  spurred : 
waiting  for  some  signal  to  escape  the  house  of  pestilence./^ 
And,  hark  !  across  the  CEil-de-Boeuf,  what  sound  is  that ;  sound 
"  terrible  and  absolutely  like  thunder  "  ?  It  is  the  rush  of  the 
whole  Court,  rushing  as  in  wager,  to  salute  the  new  Sover-  ' 
eigns :  Hail  to  your  Majesties!  The  Dauphin  and  Dauphiness 
are  King  and  Queen !  Overpowered  with  many  emotions, 
they  two  fall  on  their  knees  together,  and,  with  streaming 
tears,  exclaim,  "O  God,  guide  us,  protect  us;  we  are  too 
young  to  reign !  " — Too  young  indeed.  -J 

But  thus,  in  any  case,  "  with  a  sound  absolutely  like  thun- 
der," has  the  Horologe  of  Time  struck,  and  an  old  Era  passed 
away.  The  Louis  that  was,  lies  forsaken,  a  mass  of  abhorred 
clay ;  abandoned  "  to  some  poor  persons,  and  priests  of  the 
Chapellc  Ardente," — who  make  haste  to  put  him  "  in  two  lead 
coffins,  pouring  in  abundant  spirits  of  wine."  The  new  Louis 
with  his  Court  is  rolling  towards  Choisy,  through  the  summer 
afternoon :  the  royal  tears  still  flow  ;  but  a  word  mispronounced 
by  Monseigneur  d'Artois  sets  them  all  laughing,  and  they  weep 
no  more.  Light  mortals,  how  ye  walk  your  light  life-minuet, 
over  bottomless  abysses,  divided  from  you  by  a  film ! 

g  Weber,  Memoires  concernant  Marie- Antoinette  (London,  1809), 
i.  22. 

/j  One  grudges  to  interfere  with  the  beautiful  theatrical  "candle," 
which  Madame  Campan  (i.  70)  has  lit  on  this  occasion,  and  blown  out 
at  the  moment  of  death.  What  candles  might  be  lit  or  blown  out,  in 
so  large  an  Establishment  as  that  of  Versailles,  no  man  at  such  distance 
would  like  to  affirm :  at  the  same  time,  as  it  was  two  o'clock  in  a  May 
Afternoon,  and  these  royal  Stables  must  have  been  some  five  or  six 
hundred  yards  from  the  royal  sick-room,  the  "  candle  "  does  threaten  to 
go  out  in  spite  of  us.  It  remains  burning  indeed — in  her  fantasy;  throw- 
ing light  on  much  in  those  Mcuioires  of  hers. 


J4  CARLYLE  [1774 

For  the  rest,  the  proper  authorities  felt  that  no  Funeral 
could  be  too  unceremonious.  Besenval  himself  thinks  it  was 
unceremonious  enough.  Two  carriages  containing  two  noble- 
men of  the  usher  species,  and  a  Versailles  clerical  person ; 
some  score  of  mounted  pages,  some  fifty  palfreniers :  these, 
with  torches,  but  not  so  much  as  in  black,  start  from  Ver- 
sailles on  the  second  evening,  with  their  leaden  bier.  At  a 
high  trot  they  start;  and  keep  up  that  pace.  For  the  jibes 
(trocar ds)  of  those  Parisians,  who  stand  planted  in  two  rows, 
all  the  way  to  St.  Denis,  and  "  give  vent  to  their  pleasantry,  the 
characteristic  of  the  nation,"  do  not  tempt  one  to  slacken. 
Towards  midnight  the  vaults  of  St.  Denis  receive  their  own : 
unwept  by  any  eye  of  all  these;  if  not  by  poor  Loqiie,  his 
neglected  Daughter's,  whose  Nunnery  is  hard  by. 

Him  they  crush  down,  and  huddle  under-ground,  in  this 
impatient  way  ;  him  and  his  era  of  sin  and  tyranny  and  shame : 
for  behold  a  New  Era  is  come ;  the  future  all  the  brighter  that 
the  past  was  base. 


BOOK   SECOND. 

THE  PAPER  AGE. 

Chapter  I. — Astraea  Redux. 

A  PARADOXICAL  philosopher,  carrying  to  the  utter- 
most length  that  aphorism  of  Montesquieu's,  "  Happy 
the  people  whose  annals  are  tiresome,"  has  said, 
"  Happy  the  people  whose  annals  are  vacant."  In  which  say- 
ing, mad  as  it  looks,  may  there  not  still  be  found  some  grain  of 
reason  ?  For  truly,  as  it  has  been  written,  "  Silence  is  divine," 
and  of  Heaven;  so  in  all  earthly  things  too  there  is  a  silence 
which  is  better  than  any  speech.  Consider  it  well,  the  Event, 
the  thing  which  can  be  spoken  of  and  recorded,  is  it  not,  in  all 
cases,  some  disruption,  some  solution  of  continuity  ?  Were  it 
even  a  glad  Event,  it  involves  change,  involves  loss  (of  active 
Force) ;  and  so  far,  either  in  the  past  or  in  the  present,  is  an 
irregularity,  a  disease.  Stillest  perseverance  were  our  blessed- 
ness ;  not  dislocation  and  alteration, — could  they  be  avoided. 

The  oak  grows  silently,  in  the  forest,  a  thousand  years ;  only 
in  the  thousandth  year,  when  the  woodman  arrives  with  his  axe, 
is  there  heard  an  echoing  through  the  solitudes ;  and  the  oak 
announces  itself  when,  with  far-sounding  crash,  it  falls.  How 
silent  too  was  the  planting  of  the  acorn  ;  scattered  from  the  lap 
of  some  wandering  wind!  Nay,  when  our  oak  flowered,  or 
put  on  its  leaves  (its  glad  Events),  what  shout  of  proclamation 
could  there  be?  Hardly  from  the  most  observant  a  word  of 
recognition.  These  things  befell  not,  they  were  slowly  done; 
not  in  an  hour,  but  through  the  flight  of  days :  what  was  to  be 
said  of  it  ?  This  hour  seemed  altogether  as  the  last  was,  as  the 
next  would  be. 

It  is  thus  everywhere  that  foolish  Rumor  babbles  not  of 
what  was  done,  but  of  what  was  misdone  or  undone  ;  and  foolish 
History  (ever,  more  or  less,  the  written  epitomized  synopsis 
of  Rumor)  knows  so  little  that  were  not  as  well  unknown. 

25 


26  CARLYLE  [1774—84 

Attila  Invasions,  Walter-the-Penniless  Crusades,  Sicilian  Ves- 
pers, Thirty- Years  Wars :  mere  sin  and  misery ;  not  work,  but 
hindrance  of  work !  For  the  Earth,  all  this  while,  was  yearly 
green  and  yellow  with  her  kind  harvests ;  the  hand  of  the  crafts- 
man, the  mind  of  the  thinker  rested  not :  and  so,  after  all,  and  in 
spite  of  all,  we  have  this  so  glorious  high-domed  blossoming 
World ;  concerning  which,  poor  History  may  well  ask,  with 
wonder,  Whence  it  came  ?  She  knows  so  little  of  it,  knows  so 
much  of  what  obstructed  it,  what  would  have  rendered  it  im- 
possible. Such,  nevertheless,  by  necessity  or  foolish  choice,  is 
her  rule  and  practice ;  whereby  that  paradox,  "  Happy  the  peo- 
ple whose  annals  are  vacant,"  is  not  without  its  true  side. 

And  yet,  what  seems  more  pertinent  to  note  here,  there  is  a 
stillness,  not  of  unobstructed  growth,  but  of  passive  inertness, 
the  symptom  of  imminent  downfall.  As  victory  is  silent,  so  is 
defeat.  Of  the  opposing  forces  the  weaker  has  resigned  itself ; 
the  stronger  marches,  noiseless  now,  but  rapid,  inevitable:  the 
fall  and  overturn  will  not  be  noiseless.  How  all  grows,  and  has 
its  period,  even  as  the  herbs  of  the  fields,  be  it  annual,  centen- 
nial, millennial !  All  grows  and  dies,  each  by  its  own  wondrous 
laws,  in  wondrous  fashion  of  its  own ;  spiritual  things  most 
wondrously  of  all.  Inscrutable,  to  the  wisest,  are  these  latter ; 
not  to  be  prophesied  of,  or  understood.  If  when  the  oak  stands 
proudliest  flourishing  to  the  eye,  you  know  that  its  heart  is 
sound,  it  is  not  so  with  the  man ;  how  much  less  with  the  So- 
ciety, with  the  Nation  of  men!  Of  such  it  may  be  afifirmed 
even  that  the  superficial  aspect,  that  the  inward  feeling  of  full 
health,  is  generally  ominous.  For  indeed  it  is  of  apoplexy,  so 
to  speak,  and  a  plethoric  lazy  habit  of  body,  that  Churches, 
Kingships,  Social  Institutions,  oftenest  die.  Sad,  when  such 
Institution  plethorically  says  to  itself.  Take  thy  ease,  thou  hast 
goods  laid  up  ; — like  the  fool  of  the  Gospel,  to  whom  it  was  an- 
swered. Fool,  this  night  thy  life  shall  be  required  of  thee  ! 

Is  it  the  healthy  peace,  or  the  ominous  unhealthy,  that  rests 
on  France,  for  these  next  Ten  Years?  Over  which  the  Flis- 
torian  can  pass  lightly,  without  call  to  linger :  for  as  yet  events 
are  not,  much  less  performances.  Time  of  sunniest  stillness ; 
— shall  we  call  it,  what  all  men  thought  it,  the  new  Age  of  Gold  ? 
Call  it  at  least,  of  Paper;  which  in  many  ways  is  the  succe- 
daneum  of  Gold.  Bank-paper,  wherewith  you  can  still  buy 
when  there  is  no  gold  left;  Book-paper,  splendent  with  The- 


1774-S4J  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  27 

ories,  Philosophies,  SensibiHties, — beautiful  art,  not  only  of  re- 
vealing Thought,  but  also  of  so  beautifully  hiding  from  us  the 
want  of  Thought !  Paper  is  made  from  the  rags  of  things  that 
did  once  exist ;  there  are  endless  excellencies  in  Paper. — What 
wisest  Philosophe,  in  this  halcyon  uneventful  period,  could 
prophesy  that  there  was  approaching,  big  with  darkness  and 
confusion,  the  event  of  events?  Hope  ushers  in  a  Revolution, 
— as  earthquakes  are  preceded  by  bright  weather.  On  the 
Fifth  of  May,  fifteen  years  hence,  old  Louis  will  not  be  sending 
for  the  Sacraments ;  but  a  new  Louis,  his  grandson,  with  the 
whole  pomp  of  astonished  intoxicated  France,  will  be  opening 
the  States-General. 

Dubarrydom  and  its  D'Aiguillons  are  gone  forever.  There 
is  a  young,  still  docile,  well-intentioned  King;  a  young,  beau- 
tiful and  bountiful,  well-intentioned  Queen ;  and  with  them  all 
France,  as  it  were,  become  young.  Maupeou  and  his  Parle- 
ment  have  to  vanish  into  thick  night ;  respectable  Magistrates, 
not  indifferent  to  the  Nation,  were  it  only  for  having  been  op- 
ponents of  the  Court,  descend  now  unchained  from  their  "  steep 
rocks  at  Croe  in  Combrailles  "  and  elsewhere,  and  return  sing- 
ing praises :  the  old  Parlement  of  Paris  resumes  its  functions. 
Instead  of  a  profligate  bankrupt,  Abbe  Terray,  we  have  now, 
for  Controller-General,  a  virtuous  philosophic  Turgot,  with  a 
whole  Reformed  France  in  his  head.  By  whom  whatsoever  is 
wrong,  in  Finance  or  otherwise,  will  be  righted, — as  far  as  pos- 
sible. Is  it  not  as  if  Wisdom  herself  were  henceforth  to  have 
seat  and  voice  in  the  Council  of  Kings?  Turgot  has  taken 
office  with  the  noblest  plainness  of  speech  to  that  effect ;  been 
listened  to  with  the  noblest  royal  trustfulness.^  It  is  true,  as  -^ 
King  Louis  objects,  "  They  say  he  never  goes  to  mass ;  "  but  - 
liberal  France  likes  him  little  worse  for  that ;  liberal  France 
answers,  "  The  Abbe  Terray  always  went."  Philosophism  . 
sees,  for  the  first  time,  a  Philosophe  (or  even  a  Philosopher)  in 
office:  she  in  all  things  will  applausively  second  him;  neither 
will  light  old  Maurepas  obstruct,  if  he  can  easily  help  it. 

Then  how  "  sweet  "  are  the  manners  ;  vice  "  losing  all  its  de- 
formity :"  becoming  decent  (as  established  things,  making  regu- 
lations for  themselves,  do) ;  becoming  almost  a  kind  of  "  sweet  " 
virtue !     Intelligence  so  abounds  ;  irradiated  by  wit  and  the  art  y 

a  Turgot's  Letter:  Condorcet,  Vie  dc  Turgot  {CEuvrcs  de  Condorcct, 
t.  v.),  p.  67.    The  date  is  24th  August  1774. 


28  CARLYLE  [1774—84 

of  conversation.  Philosophism  sits  joyful  in  her  glittering  sa- 
loons, the  dinner-guest  of  Opulence  grown  ingenuous,  the  very  / 
nobles  proud  to  sit  by  her ;  and  preaches,  lifted  up  over  all  Bas- 
tilles, a  coming  millennium.  From  far  Ferney,  Patriarch  Vol- 
taire gives  sign :  veterans  Diderot,  D'Alembert  have  lived  to  see 
this  day ;  these  with  their  younger  Marmontels,  Morellets, 
Chamforts,  Raynals,  make  glad  the  spicy  board  of  rich  minis- 
tering Dowager,  of  philosophic  Farmer-General.  O  nights 
and  suppers  of  the  gods !  Of  a  truth,  the  long-demonstrated 
will  now  be  done :  "  the  Age  of  Revolutions  approaches  "  (as 
Jean  Jacques  wrote),  but  then  of  happy  blessed  ones.  Man 
awakens  from  his  long  somnambulism  ;  chases  the  Phantasms 
that  beleaguered  and  bewitched  him.  Behold  the  new  morn- 
ing glittering  down  the  eastern  steeps ;  fly,  false  Phantasms, 
from  its  shafts  of  light ;  let  the  Absurd  fly  utterly,  forsaking  this 
lower  Earth  forever.  It  is  Truth  and  Astrcoa  Redux  that  (in 
the  shape  of  Philosophism)  henceforth  reign.  For  what  im-  "i 
aginable  purpose  was  man  made,  if  not  to  be  "  happy  "?  By  - 
victorious  Analysis,  and  Progress  of  the  Species,  happiness 
enough  now  awaits  him.  Kings  can  become  philosophers ;  or 
else  philosophers  Kings.  Let  but  Society  be  once  rightly  con- 
stituted,— by  victorious  Analysis.  The  stomach  that  is  empty 
shall  be  filled ;  the  throat  that  is  dry  shall  be  wetted  with  wine. 
Labor  itself  shall  be  all  one  as  rest ;  not  grievous,  but  joyous. 
Wheat-fields,  one  would  think,  cannot  come  to  grow  untilled  ; 
no  man  made  clayey,  or  made  weary  thereby ; — unless  indeed 
machinery  will  do  it?  Gratuitous  Tailors  and  Restaurateurs 
may  start  up,  at  fit  intervals,  one  as  yet  sees  not  how.  But  if 
each  will,  according  to  rule  of  Benevolence,  have  a  care  for  all, 
then  surely — no  one  will  be  uncared  for.  Nay,  who  knows  but, 
by  sufficiently  victorious  Analysis,  "  human  life  may  be  in- 
definitely lengthened,"  and  men  get  rid  of  Death,  as  they  have 
already  done  of  the  Devil  ?  We  shall  then  be  happy  in  spite  of 
Death  and  the  Devil. — So  preaches  magniloquent  Philosophism 
her  Rcdeiint  Satnrnia  regno. 

The  prophetic  song  of  Paris  and  its  Philosophes  is  audible 
enough  in  the  Versailles  Glil-de-boeuf ;  and  the  Q^,il-de-Boeuf, 
intent  chiefly  on  nearer  blessedness,  can  answer,  at  worst,  with 
a  polite  "  Why  not  ?  "  Good  old  cheery  Maurepas  is  too  joyful 
a  Prime  Minister  to  dash  the  world's  joy.  Sufficient  for  the 
day  be  its  own  evil.      Cheery  old  man,  he  cuts  his  jokes,  and^ 


1774—84]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  29 

hovers  careless  along ;  his  cloak  well  adjusted  to  the  wind,  if  so 
be  he  may  please  all  persons.  The  simple  young  King,  whom 
a  Maurepas  cannot  think  of  troubling  with  business,  has  retired 
into  the  interior  apartments ;  taciturn,  irresolute ;  though  with 
a  sharpness  of  temper  at  times :  he,  at  length,  determines  on  a 
little  smith-work ;  and  so,  in  apprenticeship  with  a  Sieur  Ga- 
main  (whom  one  day  he  shall  have  little  cause  to  bless),  is  learn- 
ing to  make  locks.^  It  appears  further,  he  understood 
Geography ;  and  could  read  English.  Unhappy  young  King, 
his  childlike  trust  in  that  foolish  old  Maurepas  deserved  another 
return.  But  friend  and  foe,  destiny  and  himself  have  combined 
to  do  him  hurt. 

Meanwhile  the  fair  young  Queen,  in  her  halls  of  state,  walks 
like  a  goddess  of  Beauty,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes ;  as  yet  min- 
gles not  vi^ith  affairs  ;  heeds  not  the  future  ;  least  of  all,  dreads  it. 
Weber  and  Campanc  have  pictured  her,  there  within  the  royal 
tapestries,  in  bright  boudoirs,  baths,  peignoirs,  and  the  Grand 
and  Little  Toilette ;  with  a  whole  brilliant  world  waiting  ob- 
sequious on  her  glance :  fair  young  daughter  of  Time,  what 
things  has  Time  in  store  for  thee  !  Like  Earth's  brightest  Ap- 
pearance, she  moves  gracefully,  environed  with  the  grandeur 
of  Earth  :  a  reality,  and  yet  a  magic  vision  ;  for,  behold,  shall  not 
utter  Darkness  swallow  it !  The  soft  young  heart  adopts  or- 
phans, portions  meritorious  maids,  delights  to  succor  the  poor, 
— such  poor  as  come  picturesquely  in  her  way ;  and  sets  the 
fashion  of  doing  it ;  for,  as  was  said,  Benevolence  has  now  be- 
gun reigning.  In  her  Duchess  de  Polignac,  in  her  Princess  de 
Lamballe,  she  enjoys  something  almost  like  friendship :  now 
too,  after  seven  long  years,  she  has  a  child,  and  soon  even  a 
Dauphin,  of  her  own ;  can  reckon  herself,  as  Queens  go,  happy 
in  a  husband. 

Events?  The  grand  events  are  but  charitable  Feasts  of 
Morals  (Fetes  des  moeurs),  with  their  Prizes  and  Speeches  ;  Pois- 
sarde  Processions  to  the  Dauphin's  cradle ;  above  all,  Flirta- 
tions, their  rise,  progress,  decline  and  fall.  There  are  Snow- 
statues  raised  by  the  poor  in  hard  winter  to  a  Queen  who  has 
given  them  fuel.  There  are  masquerades,  theatricals ;  beauti- 
fyings  of  little  Trianon,  purchase  and  repair  of  St.  Cloud  ;  jour- 
neyings  from  the  summer  Gourt-Elysium  to  the  winter  one. 
There  are  poutings  and  grudgings  from  the  Sardinian  Sisters- 
fc  Campan,  i.  125.  <:  lb.  i.  icx)-i5i.     Weber,  i.  11-50. 


30  CARLYLE  [1774—84 

in-law  (for  the  Princes  too  are  wedded) ;  little  jealousies,  which 
Court-Etiquette  can  moderate.  Wholly  the  lightest  hearted 
frivolous  foam  of  Existence  ;  yet  an  artfully  refined  foam ;  pleas- 
ant were  it  not  so  costly,  like  that  which  mantles  on  the  wine  of 
Champagne ! 

Monsieur,  the  King's  elder  Brother,  has  set  up  for  a  kind  of 
wit ;  and  leans  towards  the  Philosophe  side.  Monseigneur 
d'Artois  pulls  the  mask  from  a  fair  impertinent ;  fights  a  duel  1 
in  consequence, — almost  drawing  blood. tf  He  has  breeches  of 
a  kind  new  in  this  world  ; — a  fabulous  kind  ;  "  four  tall  lackeys," 
says  Mercier,  as  if  he  had  seen  it,  "  hold  him  up  in  the  air,  that 
he  may  fall  into  the  garment  without  vestige  of  wrinkle ;  from 
which  rigorous  encasement  the  same  four,  in  the  same  way,  and 
with  more  effort,  have  to  deliver  him  at  night. 'V  This  last  is  he 
who  now,  as  a  gray  timeworn  man,  sits  desolate  at  Gratz  \f  hav- 
ing winded  up  his  destiny  with  the  Three  Days.  In  such  sort 
are  poor  mortals  swept  and  shovelled  to  and  fro. 

Chapter  II. — Petition  in  Hieroglyphs. 

With  the  working  people,  again,  it  is  not  so  well.  Unlucky ! 
For  there  are  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  millions  of  them. 
Whom,  however,  we  lump  together  into  a  kind  of  dim  com- 
pendious unity,  monstrous  but  dim,  far  off,  as  the  canaille;  or--> 
more  humanely,  as  "  the  masses."  Masses  indeed ;  and  yet,  - 
singular  to  say,  if,  with  an  effort  of  imagination,  thou  follow 
them,  over  Broad  France,  into  their  clay  hovels,  into  their 
garrets  and  hutches,  the  masses  consist  all  of  units.  Every  unit 
of  whom  has  his  own  heart  and  sorrows ;  stands  covered  there 
with  his  own  skin,  and  if  you  prick  him  he  will  bleed.  O  purple 
Sovereignty,  Holiness,  Reverence ;  thou,  for  example,  Cardinal 
Grand-Almoner,  with  thy  plush  covering  of  honor,  who  hast 
thy  hands  strengthened  with  dignities  and  moneys,  and  art 
set  on  thy  world  watch-tower  solemnly,  in  sight  of  God,  for 
such  ends — what  a  thought :  that  every  unit  of  these  masses 
is  a  miraculous  Man,  even  as  thou  thyself  art ;  struggling,  with 
vision  or  with  blindness,  for  his  infinite  Kingdom  (this  life  which 
he  has  got,  once  only,  in  the  middle  of  Eternities) ;  with  a  spark 
of  the  Divinity,  what  thou  callest  an  immortal  soul,  in  him ! 

d  Besenval,  ii.  282-330.  e  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,   in.    147. 

/A.D.  1834. 


. -•■-.<• 


1774—84]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  31 

Dreary,  languid  do  these  struggle  in  their  obscure  remote- 
ness; their  hearth  cheerless,  their  diet  thin.  For  them,  in  this 
world,  rises  no  Era  of  Hope ;  hardly  now  in  the  other — if  it  be 
not  hope  in  the  gloomy  rest  of  Death,  for  their  faith  too  is  fail- 
ing. Untaught,  uncomforted,  unfed !  A  dumb  generation ; 
their  voice  only  an  inarticulate  cry;  spokesman,  in  the  King's 
Council,  in  the  world's  forum,  they  have  none  that  finds  cre- 
dence. At  rare  intervals  (as  now,  in  1775),  they  will  fling  down 
their  hoes  and  hammers  ;  and,  to  the  astonishment  of  thinking 
mankind,^  flock  hither  and  thither,  dangerous,  aimless ;  get 
the  length  even  of  Versailles.  Turgot  is  altering  the  Corn- 
trade,  abrogating  the  absurdest  Corn-laws ;  there  is  dearth, 
real,  or  were  it  even  "  factitious ;"  an  indubitable  scarcity  of 
bread.  And  so,  on  the  second  day  of  May,  1775,  these  waste 
multitudes  do  here,  at  Versailles  Chateau,  in  wide-spread 
wretchedness,  in  sallow  faces,  squalor,  winged  raggedness,  pre- 
sent, as  in  legible  hieroglyphic  writing,  their  Petition  of  Griev- 
ances. The  Chateau  gates  have  to  be  shut ;  but  the  King  will 
appear  on  the  balcony,  and  speak  to  them.  They  have  seen 
the  King's  face ;  their  Petition  of  Grievances  has  been,  if  not 
rtad,  looked  at.  For  answer,  two  of  them  are  hanged,  on  a 
"  new  gallows  forty  feet  high ;"  and  the  rest  driven  back  to 
their  dens — for  a  time. 

Clearly  a  difficult  "point"  for  Government,  that  of  dealing 
with  these  masses — if  indeed  it  be  not  rather  the  sole  point  and 
problem  of  Government,  and  all  other  points  mere  accidental 
crotchets,  superficialities,  and  beatings  of  the  wind !  For  let 
Charter-Chests,  Use  and  Wont,  Law  common  and  special  say 
what  they  will,  the  masses  count  to  so  many  millions  of  units ; 
made,  to  all  appearance,  by  God — whose  Earth  this  is  declared 
to  be.  Besides,  these  people  are  not  without  ferocity ;  they 
have  sinews  and  indignation.  Do  but  look  what  holiday  old 
Marquis  Mirabeau,  the  crabbed  old  Friend  of  Men,  looked  on, 
in  these  same  years,  from  his  lodging,  at  the  Baths  of  Mont 
d'Or :  "  The  savages  descending  in  torrents  from  the  moun- 
tains ;  our  people  ordered  not  to  go  out.  The  Curate  in  surplus 
and  stole ;  Justice  in  its  peruke ;  Marechausee  sabre  in  hand, 
guarding  the  place,  till  the  bagpipes  can  begin.  The  dance  in- 
terrupted, in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  by  battle;  the  cries,  the 

g  Lacrctellc.  France  f^eudaiit  le  i8»tf  Sihle,  ii.  455.  Biograpliie  Uiii- 
versclle,  sec.  Turgot  (by  Durozoir). 


32  CARLYLE  [1774-84 

squealings  of  children,  of  infirm  persons,  and  other  assistants, 
tarring  them  on,  as  the  rabble  does  when  dogs  fight;  fright- 
ful men,  or  rather  frightful  wild-animals,  clad  in  jupes  of  coarse 
woollen,  with  large  girdles  of  leather  studded  with  copper  nails ; 
of  gigantic  stature,  heightened  by  high  wooden-clogs  (sabots) ;  > 
rising  on  tiptoe  to  see  the  fight ;  tramping  time  to  it ;  rubbing 
their  sides  with  their  elbows:  their  faces  haggard  {figures 
haves),  and  covered  with  their  long  greasy  hair;  the  upper 
part  of  the  visage  waxing  pale,  the  lower  distorting  itself 
into  the  attempt  at  a  cruel  laugh  and  a  sort  of  ferocious  im- 
patience. And  these  people  pay  the  taillc!  And  you  want 
further  to  take  their  salt  from  them !  And  you  know  what 
it  is  you  are  stripping  barer,  or  as  you  call  it,  governing; 
what,  by  the  spurt  of  your  pen,  in  its  cold  dastard  indifiference, 
you  will  fancy  you  can  starve  always  with  impunity;  always 
till  the  catastrophe  come ! — Ah,  Madame,  such  Government 
by  Blindman's-buff,  stumbling  along  too  far,  will  end  in  the 
General  Overturn  {culbute  gcnerale)."h 

Undoubtedly,  a  dark  feature  this  in  an  Age  of  Gold — Age,  • 
at  least,  of  Paper  and  Hope !     Meanwhile,  trouble  us  not  with 
thy  prophecies,  O  croaking  Friend  of  Men :  'tis  long  that  we 
have  heard  such;  and  still  the  old  world  keeps  wagging,  in  its 
old  way. 

Chapter  III. — Questionable. 

Or  is  this  same  Age  of  Hope  itself  but  a  simulacrum ;  as 
Hope  too  often  is  ?  Cloud-vapor  with  rainbows  painted  on  it, 
beautiful  to  see,  to  sail  towards — which  hovers  over  Niagara 
Falls?  In  that  case,  victorious  Analysis  will  have  enough 
to  do. 

Alas,  yes !  a  whole  world  to  remake,  if  she  could  see  it :  work 
for  another  than  she  !  For  all  is  wrong,  and  gone  out  of  joint ; 
the  inward  spiritual,  and  the  outward  economical ;  head  or 
heart,  there  is  no  soundness  in  it.  As  indeed,  evils  of  all  sorts 
are  more  or  less  of  kin,  and  do  usually  go  together :  especially  it 
is  an  old  truth,  that  wherever  huge  physical  evil  is,  there,  as  the 
parent  and  origin  of  it,  has  moral  evil  to  a  proportionate  extent 
been.  iJefore  those  five-and-twcnty  laboring  Millions,  for  in- 
stance, could  get  that  haggardness  of  face,  which  old  Mirabeau 

h  Memoircs  de  Mirabeau,  ecrits  par  Lui-meme,  par  son  Pere,  son 
Oncic  ct  son  Fils  Adoptif  (Paris,  1834-5),  ii-  186. 


1774—84]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  33 

now  looks  on,  in  a  nation  calling  itself  Christian,  and  calling 
man  the  brother  of  man, — what  unspeakable,  nigh  infinite  Dis- 
honesty (of  seeming  and  not  being)  in  all  manner  of  Rulers,  and 
appointed  Watchers,  spiritual  and  temporal,  must  there  not, 
through  long  ages,  have  gone  on  accumulating!  It  will  ac- 
cumulate :  moreover,  it  will  reach  a  head ;  for  the  first  of  all 
Gospels  is  this,  that  a  lie  cannot  endure  forever. 

In  fact,  if  we  pierce  through  that  rosepink  vapor  of  Senti- 
mentalism,  Philanthropy,  and  Feasts  of  Morals,  there  lies  be- 
hind it  one  of  the  sorriest  spectacles.  You  might  ask.  What 
bonds  that  ever  held  a  human  society  happily  together,  or  held 
it  together  at  all,  are  in  force  here  ?  It  is  an  unbelieving  people ; 
which  has  suppositions,  hypotheses,  and  froth-systems  of  vic- 
torious Analysis ;  and  for  belief  this  mainly,  that  Pleasure  is 
pleasant.  Hunger  they  have  for  all  sweet  things ;  and  the  law 
of  Hunger :  but  what  other  law  ?  Within  them,  or  over  them, 
properly  none ! 

Their  King  has  become  a  King  Popinjay:  with  his  Maure- 
pas  Government,  gyrating  as  the  weather-cock  does,  blown 
about  by  every  wind.  Above  them  they  see  no  God ;  or  they 
even  do  not  look  above,  except  with  astronomical  glasses.  The 
.Church  indeed  still  is ;  but  in  the  most  submissive  state ;  quite 
tamed  by  Philosophism  ;  in  a  singularly  short  time  ;  for  the  hour 
was  come.  Some  twenty  years  ago,  your  Archbishop  Beau- 
mont would  not  even  let  the  poor  Jansenists  get  buried :  your 
Lomenie  Brienne  (a  rising  man,  whom  we  shall  meet  with  yet) 
could,  in  the  name  of  the  Clergy,  insist  on  having  the  Anti- 
protestant  Laws,  which  condemn  to  death  for  preaching,  "  put 
in  execution. "a  And  alas,  now  not  so  much  as  Baron  Hol- 
bach's  Atheism  can  be  burnt, — except  as  pipe-matches  by  the 
private  speculative  individual.  Our  Church  stands  haltered, 
dumb,  like  a  dumb  ox ;  lowing  only  for  provender  (of  tithes) ; 
content  if  it  can  have  that ;  or,  with  dumb  stupor,  expecting  its 
further  doom.  And  the  Twenty  Millions  of  "  haggard  faces;" 
and,  as  finger-post  and  guidance  to  them  in  their  dark  struggle, 
"  a  gallows  forty  feet  high  !  "  Certainly  a  singular  Golden  Age  ; 
with  its  Feasts  of  Morals,  its  "  sweet  manners,"  its  sweet  insti- 
tutions (institutions  douces);  betokening  nothing  but  peace 
among  men! — Peace?  O  Philosophe-Sentimcntalism,  what 
hast  thou  to  do  with  peace,  when  thy  mother's  name  is  Jezebel  ? 

a  Boissy  d'Anglas,  Vie  de  Malcsherbes,  i.  15-22. 
Vol.  I— 3 


34  CARLYLE  li774— H 

Foul  Product  of  still  fouler  Corruption,  thou  with  the  corrup-  ■' 
tion  art  doomed !  ' 

Meanwhile  it  is  singular  how  long  the  rotten  will  hold  to- 
gether, provided  you  do  not  handle  it  roughly.  For  whole  - 
generations  it  continues  standing,  "  with  a  ghastly  afifectation  | 
of  life,"  after  all  life  and  truth  has  fled  out  of  it:  so  loth  are 
men  to  quit  their  old  ways ;  and,  conquering  indolence  and 
inertia,  venture  on  new.  Great  truly  is  the  Actual ;  is  the  . 
Thing  that  has  rescued  itself  from  bottomless  deeps  of  theory 
and  possibility,  and  stands  there  as  a  definite  indisputable  Fact, 
whereby  men  do  work  and  live,  or  once  did  so.  Wisely  shall 
men  cleave  to  that,  while  it  will  endure ;  and  quit  it  with  regret, 
when  it  gives  way  under  them.  Rash  enthusiast  of  Change, 
beware !  Hast  thou  well  considered  all  that  Habit  does  in 
this  life  of  ours ;  how  all  Knowledge  and  all  Practice  hang 
wondrous  over  infinite  abysses  of  the  Unknown,  Impracticable ; 
and  our  whole  being  is  an  infinite  abyss,  overarched  by  Habit, 
as  by  a  thin  Earth-rind,  laboriously  built  together? 

But  if  "  every  man,"  as  it  has  been  written,  "  holds  con- 
fined within  him  a  j/zaJ-man,"  what  must  every  Society  do ; — 
Society,  which  in  its  commonest  state  is  called  "  the  standing 
miracle  of  this  world  "  !  "  Without  such  Earth-rind  of  Habit," 
continues  our  author,  "  Call  its  system  of  Habits,  in  a  word, 
Hxed  ways  of  acting  and  of  believing — Society  would  not  exist 
at  all.  With  such  it  exists,  better  or  worse.  Herein,  too,  in 
this  its  System  of  Habits,  acquired,  retained  how  you  will, 
lies  the  true  Law-Code  and  Constitution  of  a  Society ;  the 
only  Code,  though  an  unwritten  one,  which  it  can  in  nowise 
disohey.  The  Thing  we  call  written  Code,  Constitution,  Form 
of  Government,  and  the  like,  what  is  it  but  some  miniature 
image,  and  solemnly  expressed  summary  of  this  unwritten 
Code?  /.y— or  rather,  alas,  is  not;  but  only  should  be,  and 
always  tends  to  be !  In  which  latter  discrepancy  lies  struggle 
without  end."  And  now,  we  add  in  the  same  dialect,  let  but, 
by  ill  chance,  in  such  ever-enduring  struggle — your  "  thin 
Earth-rind"  be  once  broken!  The  fountains  of  the  great  deep 
boil  forth  ;  fire-fountains,  enveloping,  engulfing.  Your  "  Earth- 
rind  "  is  shattered,  swallowed  up;  instead  of  a  green  flowery 
world,  there  is  a  waste  wild-weltering  chaos; — which  has 
again,  with  tunuilt  and  struggle,  to  make  itself  into  a  world. 

On  the  othci  hand,  be  this  conceded :    Where  thou  findest 


1774-841  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  35 

a  Lie  that  is  oppressing  thee,  extinguish  it.  Lies  exist  there 
only  to  be  extinguished;  they  wait  and  cry  earnestly  for  ex- 
tinction. Think  well,  meanwhile,  in  what  spirit  thou  wilt  do 
it :  not  with  hatred,  with  headlong  selfish  violence ;  but  in 
clearness  of  heart,  with  holy  zeal,  gently,  almost  with  pity. 
Thou  wouldst  not  replace  such  extinct  Lie  by  a  new  Lie,  which 
a  new  Injustice  of  thy  own  were ;  the  parent  of  still  other  Lies  ? 
Whereby  the  latter  end  of  that  business  were  worse  than  the 
beginning. 

So,  however,  in  this  world  of  ours,  which  has  both  an  inde- 
structible hope  in  the  Future,  and  an  indestructible  tendency 
to  persevere  as  in  the  Past,  must  Innovation  and  Conservation 
wage  their  perpetual  conflict,  as  they  may  and  can.  Wherein 
the  "  d?emonic  element,"  that  lurks  in  all  human  things,  may 
doubtless,  some  once  in  the  thousand  years — get  vent !  But 
indeed  may  we  not  regret  that  such  conflict — which,  after  all, 
is  but  like  that  classical  one  of  "  hate-filled  Amazons  with 
heroic  Youths,"  and  will  end  in  embraces — should  usually  be 
so  spasmodic?  For  Conservation,  strengthened  by  that  might- 
iest quality  in  us,  our  indolence,  sits  for  long  ages,  not  vic- 
torious only,  which  she  should  be ;  but  tyrannical,  incommunica- 
tive. She  holds  her  adversary  as  if  annihilated ;  such  ad- 
versary lying,  all  the  while,  like  some  buried  Enceladus ;  who, 
to  gain  the  smallest  freedom,  has  to  stir  a  whole  Trinacria  with 
its  ^tnas. 

Wherefore,  on  the  whole,  we  will  honor  a  Paper  Age  too; 
an  Era  of  hope!  For  in  this  same  frightful  process  of  Encela- 
dus Revolt ;  when  the  task,  on  which  no  mortal  would  will- 
ingly enter,  has  become  imperative,  inevitable — is  it  not  even  a 
kindness  of  Nature  that  she  lures  us  forward  by  cheerful 
promises,  fallacious  or  not;  and  a  whole  generation  plunges 
into  the  Erebus  P>lackness,  lighted  on  by  an  Era  of  Hope?  It 
has  been  well  said :  "  Man  is  based  on  Hope ;  he  has  properly 
no  other  possession  but  Hope ;  this  habitation  of  his  is  named 
the  Place  of  Hope." 


36  CARLYLE  [i774— 8i 


Chapter  IV. — Maurepas. 

But  now,  among  French  hopes,  is  not  that  of  old  M.  de 
Maurepas  one  of  the  best-grounded ;  who  hopes  that  he,  by 
dexterity,  shall  contrive  to  continue  Minister?  Nimble  old 
man,  who  for  all  emergencies  has  his  light  jest;  and  ever  in  • 
the  worst  confusion  will  emerge,  cork-like,  unsunk !  Small  ■ 
care  to  him  is  Perfectibility,  Progress  of  the  Species,  and 
Astrcea  Redux:  good  only,  that  a  man  of  light  wit,  verging 
towards  fourscore,  can  in  the  seat  of  authority  feel  himself 
important  among  men.  Shall  we  call  him,  as  haughty  Cha- 
teauroux  was  wont  of  old,  "  M.  Faquinet  (Diminutive  of 
Scoundrel)"?  In  courtier  dialect,  he  is  now  named  "the 
Nestor  of  France ;"  such  governing  Nestor  as  France  has. 

At  bottom,  nevertheless,  it  might  puzzle  one  to  say  where 
the  Government  of  France,  in  these  days,  specially  is.    In  that 
Chateau  of  Versailles,  we  have  Nestor,  King,  Queen,  ministers 
and  clerks,  with  paper-bundles  tied  in  tape :    but  the  Govern- 
ment?   For  Government  is  a  thing  that  governs,  that  guides;- 
and  if  need  be,  compels.     Visible  in  France  there  is  not  such  I 
a  thing.     Invisible,  inorganic,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is :    in     .:-^ 
Philosophe  saloons,  in  GEil-de-Boeuf  galleries ;   in  the  tongue 
of  the  babbler,  in  the  pen  of  the  pamphleteer.     Her  MajestyJ 
appearing  at  the  Opera  is  applauded ;    she  returns  all  radiant 
with  joy.    Anon  the  applauses  wax  fainter,  or  threaten  to  cease ; 
she  is  heavy  of  heart,  the  light  of  her  face  has  fled.     Is  Sov- 
ereignty some  poor  Montgolfier ;    which,  blown  into  by  the 
popular  wind,  grows  great  and  mounts ;   or  sinks  flaccid,  if  the 
wind  be  withdrawn?    France  was  long  a  "  Despotism  tempered 
by  Epigrams;"  and  now,  it  would  seem,  the  Epigrams  have 
got  the  upper  hand. 

Happy  were  a  young  "  Louis  the  Desired  "  to  make  France 
happy ;  if  it  did  not  prove  too  troublesome,  and  he  only  knew 
the  way.  But  there  is  endless  discrepancy  round  him  ;  so  many 
claims  and  clamors ;  a  mere  confusion  of  tongues.  Not  recon- 
cilable by  man ;  not  manageable,  suppressible,  save  by  some 
strongest  and  wisest  man  ; — which  only  a  lightly-jesting  lightly- 
gyrating  M.  de  Maurepas  can  so  much  as  subsist  amidst.  Phi- 
losophism  claims  her  new  Era,  meaning  thereby  innumerable 
things.    And  claims  it  in  no  faint  voice ;    for  France  at  large, 


I774-8T]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  37 

hitherto  mute,  is  now  beginning  to  speak  also ;  and  speaks  in 
that  same  sense.  A  huge,  many-toned  sound ;  distant,  yet  not 
unimpressive.  On  the  other  hand,  the  CEil-de-Boeuf,  which, 
as  nearest,  one  can  hear  best,  claims  with  shrill  vehemence 
that  the  Monarchy  be  as  heretofore  a  Horn  of  Plenty ;  where- 
from  loyal  courtiers  may  draw — to  the  just  support  of  the 
throne.  Let  Liberalism  and  a  New  Era,  if  such  is  the  wish,* 
be  introduced ;  only  no  curtailment  of  the  royal  moneys ! 
Which  latter  condition,  alas,  is  precisely  the  impossible  one. 

Philosophism,  as  we  saw,  has  got  her  Turgot  made  Con- 
troller-General ;  and  there  shall  be  endless  reformation.  Un- 
happily this  Turgot  could  continue  only  twenty  months.  With 
a  miraculous  Fortnnatus'  Purse  in  his  Treasury,  it  might 
have  lasted  longer ;  with  such  Purse  indeed,  every  French 
Controller-General,  that  would  prosper  in  these  days,  ought 
first  to  provide  himself.  But  here  again  may  we  not  remark 
the  bounty  of  Nature  in  regard  to  Hope?  Man  after  man 
advances  confident  to  the  Augean  Stable,  as  if  he  could  clean  it ; 
expends  his  little  fraction  of  an  ability  on  it,  with  such  cheer- 
fulness ;  does,  in  so  far  as  he  was  honest,  accomplish  some- 
thing. Turgot  has  faculties ;  honesty,  insight,  heroic  volition ; 
but  the  Fortunatus'  Purse  he  has  not.  Sanguine  Controller- 
General  !  a  whole  pacific  French  Revolution  may  stand  schemed 
in  the  head  of  the  thinker ;  but  who  shall  pay  the  unspeak- 
able "  indemnities  "  that  will  be  needed  ?  Alas,  far  from  that : 
on  the  very  threshold  of  the  business,  he  proposes  that  the 
Clergy,  the  Noblesse,  the  very  Parlements  be  subjected  to  taxes 
like  the  People !  One  shriek  of  indignation  and  astonishment 
reverberates  through  all  the  Chateau  galleries  ;  M.  de  Maurepas 
has  to  gyrate :  the  poor  King,  who  had  written  few  weeks  ago, 
"  //  n'y  a  que  vous  et  moi  qui  airnions  le  peuple  (There  is  none 
but  you  and  I  that  has  the  people's  interest  at  heart),"  must 
write  now  a  dismissal ;«  and  let  the  French  Revolution  accom- 
plish itself,  pacifically  or  not,  as  it  can. 

Hope,  then,  is  deferred?  Deferred;  not  destroyed,  or 
abated.  Is  not  this,  for  example,  our  Patriarch  Voltaire,  after 
long  years  of  absence,  revisiting  Paris?  With  face  shrivelled 
to  nothing ;  with  "  huge  peruke  a  la  Louis  Quatorze,  which 
leaves  only  two  eyes  visible,  glittering  like  carbuncles,"  the  old 
man  is  here.t  What  an  outburst !  Sneering  Paris  has  suddenly 
a  In  May  1776.  b  February  1778. 


4CG555 


38  CARLYLE  [i774— 8i 

grown  reverent ;  devotional  with  Hero-worship.  Nobles  have 
disguised  themselves  as  tavern-waiters  to  obtain  sight  of  him : 
the  loveliest  of  France  would  lay  their  hair  beneath  his  feet. 
"  His  chariot  is  the  nucleus  of  a  Comet ;  whose  train  fills 
w^hole  streets :"  they  crown  him  in  the  theatre,  with  immortal 
vivats ;  finally  "stifle  him  under  roses" — for  old  Richelieu 
recommended  opium  in  such  state  of  the  nerves,  and  the  ex- 
cessive Patriarch  took  too  much.  Her  Majesty  herself  had 
some  thought  of  sending  for  him;  but  was  dissuaded.  Let 
Majesty  consider  it,  nevertheless.  The  purport  of  this  man's 
existence  has  been  to  wither  up  and  annihilate  all  whereon 
Majesty  and  Worship  for  the  present  rests :  and  is  it  so  that 
the  world  recognizes  him?  With  Apotheosis;  as  its  Prophet 
and  Speaker,  who  has  spoken  wisely  the  thing  it  longed  to 
say?  Add  only,  that  the  body  of  this  same  rose-stifled,  beati- 
fied Patriarch  cannot  get  buried  except  by  stealth.  It  is  wholly 
a  notable  business;  and  France,  without  doubt,  is  big  (what 
the  Germans  call  "Of  good  Hope"):  we  shall  wish  her  a 
happy  birth-hour,  and  blessed  fruit. 

Beaumarchais  too  has  now  winded-up  his  Law-Pleadings 
(Memoircs)  ;c  not  without  result,  to  himself  and  to  the  world. 
Caron  Beaumarchais  (or  de  Beaumarchais,  for  he  got  en- 
nobled) had  been  born  poor,  but  aspiring,  esurient ;  with  talents, 
audacity,  adroitness ;  above  all,  with  the  talent  for  intrigue :  a 
lean,  but  also  a  tough  indomitable  man.  Fortune  and  dexterity 
brought  him  to  the  harpsichord  of  Mesdames,  our  good  Prin- 
cesses Loqiie,  Graillc  and  Sisterhood.  Still  better,  Paris  Du- 
vernier,  the  Court-Banker,  honored  him  with  some  confidence ; 
to  the  length  even  of  transactions  in  cash.  Which  confidence, 
however,  Duvernier's  Heir,  a  person  of  quality,  would  not  con- 
tinue. Quite  otherwise ;  there  springs  a  Lawsuit  from  it : 
wherein  tough  Beaumarchais,  losing  both  mone}^  and  repute, 
is,  in  the  opinion  of  Judge-Reporter  Goezman,  of  the  Parlement 
Maupeou,  and  of  a  whole  indifferent  acquiescing  world,  miser- 
ably beaten.  In  all  men's  opinion,  only  not  in  his  own !  In- 
spired by  the  indignation,  which  makes,  if  not  verses,  satirical 
lawpapers,  the  withered  Music-master,  with  a  desperate  heroism, 
takes  up  his  lost  cause  in  spite  of  the  world;  fights  for  it, 
against  Reporters,  Parlements  and  Principalities,  with  light 

c  ^773-6.     See  (Euvrcs  de  Beaumarchais;  where  they,  and  the  history 
of  them,  arc  given. 


1776-85J  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  39 

banter,  with  clear  logic;  adroitly,  with  an  inexhaustible  tough- 
ness and  resource,  like  the  skilfulest  fencer ;  on  whom,  so  skil- 
ful he  is,  the  whole  world  now  looks.  Three  long  years  it 
lasts  ;  with  wavering  fortune.  In  fine,  after  labors  comparable 
to  the  Twelve  of  Hercules,  our  unconquerable  Caron  triumphs ; 
regains  his  Lawsuit  and  Lawsuits ;  strips  Reporter  Goezman 
of  the  judicial  ermine ;  covering  him  with  a  perpetual  gar- 
ment of  obloquy  instead : — and  in  regard  to  the  Parlement 
Maupeou  (which  he  has  helped  to  extinguish),  to  Parlements 
of  all  kinds,  and  to  French  Justice  generally,  gives  rise  to  end- 
less reflections  in  the  minds  of  men.  Thus  has  Beaumar- 
chais,  like  a  lean  French  Hercules,  ventured  down,  driven  by 
destiny,  into  the  Nether  Kingdoms ;  and  victoriously  tamed 
hell-dogs  there.  He  also  is  henceforth  among  the  notabilities 
of  his  generation. 

Chapter  V. — Astraea  Redux  Without  Cash. 

Observe,  however,  beyond  the  Atlantic,  has  not  the  new 
day  verily  dawned !  Democracy,  as  we  said,  is  born ;  storm- 
girt,  is  struggling  for  life  and  victory.  A  sympathetic  France 
rejoices  over  the  Rights  of  Man;  in  all  saloons,  it  is  said, 
What  a  spectacle !  Now  too  behold  our  Deane,  our  Franklin, 
American  Plenipotentiaries,  here  in  person  soliciting  :d  the 
sons  of  the  Saxon  Puritans,  with  their  Old-Saxon  temper,  Old- 
Hebrew  culture,  sleek  Silas,  sleek  Benjamin,  here  on  such 
errand,  among  the  light  children  of  Heathenism,  Monarchy, 
Sentimentalism,  and  the  Scarlet-woman.  A  spectacle  indeed ; 
oved  which  saloons  may  cackle  joyous ;  though  Kaiser  Joseph, 
questioned  on  it,  gave  this  answer,  most  unexpected  from  a 
Philosophe :  "  Madame,  the  trade  I  live  by  is  that  of  royalist 
(Mon  metier  a  inoi  c'est  d'etre  royaliste)." 

So  thinks  light  Maurepas  too ;  but  the  wind  of  Philosophism 
and  force  of  public  opinion  will  blow  him  round.  Best  wishes, 
meanwhile,  are  sent ;  clandestine  privateers  armed.  Paul  Jones 
shall  equip  his  Bon  Homme  Richard:  weapons,  military  stores 
can  be  smuggled  over  (if  the  English  do  not  seize  them)  ; 
wherein,  once  more  Beaumarchais,  dimly  as  the  Giant  Smuggler, 
becomes  visible — filling  his  own  lank  pocket  withal.  But  surely, 
in  any  case,  France  should  have  a  Navy.     For  which  great 

di777;  Deane  somewhat  earlier:  Franklin  remained  till  1785. 


40  CAREYLE  [1776—85 

object  were  not  now  the  time ;  now  when  that  proud  Ter- 
magant of  the  Seas  has  her  hands  full  ?  It  is  true,  an  im- 
poverished Treasury  cannot  build  ships ;  but  the  hint  once 
given  (which  Beaumarchais  says  he  gave),  this  and  the  other 
loyal  Seaport,  Chamber  of  Commerce,  will  build  and  offer 
them.  Goodly  vessels  bound  into  the  waters ;  a  Ville  de  Paris, 
Leviathan  of  ships. 

And  now  when  gratuitous  three-deckers  dance  there  at 
anchor,  with  streamers  flying;  and  eleutheromaniac  Philo- 
sophedom  grows  ever  more  clamorous,  what  can  a  Maurepas 
do — but  gyrate  ?  Squadrons  cross  the  ocean :  Gateses,  Lees, 
rough  Yankee  Generals,  "  with  woollen  night-caps  under  their 
hats,"  present  arms  to  the  far-glancing  Chivalry  of  France; 
and  new-born  Democracy  sees,  not  without  amazement,  "  Des- 
potism tempered  by  Epigrams  "  fight  at  her  side.  So,  how- 
ever, it  is.  King's  forces  and  heroic  volunteers  ;  Rochambeaus, 
Bouilles,  Lameths,  Lafayettes,  have  drawn  their  swords  in 
this  sacred  quarrel  of  mankind ; — shall  draw  them  again  else- 
where, in  the  strangest  way. 

Off  Ushant  some  naval  thunder  is  heard.  In  the  course  of 
which  did  our  young  Prince,  Duke  de  Chartres,  "  hide  in  the 
hold ;"  or  did  he  materially,  by  active  heroism,  contribute  to 
the  victory?  Alas,  by  a  second  edition,  we  learn  that  there 
was  no  victory ;  or  that  English  Keppel  had  lis  Our  poor  young 
Prince  gets  his  Opera  plaudits  changed  into  mocking  tehees ; 
and  cannot  become  Grand- Admiral — the  source  to  him  of  woes 
which  one  may  call  endless. 

Woe  also  for  Ville  de  Paris,  the  Leviathan  of  ships !  Eng- 
lish Rodney  has  clutched  it,  and  led  it  home,  with  the  rest;  so 
successful  was  his  "  new  manoeuvre  of  breaking  the  enemy's 
line."^  It  seems  as  if,  according  to  Louis  XV,  "  France  were 
never  to  have  a  Navy."  Brave  Suffren  must  return  from  Hyder 
Ally  and  the  Indian  waters ;  with  small  result ;  yet  with  great 
glory  for  "  six  "  non-defeats; — which  indeed,  with  such  second- 
ing as  he  had,  one  may  reckon  heroic.  Let  the  old  sea-hero 
rest  now,  honored  of  France,  in  his  native  Cevenncs  moun- 
tains ;  send  smoke,  not  of  gunpowder,  but  mere  culinary  smoke, 
through  the  old  chimneys  of  the  Castle  of  Jalcs — which  one 
day,  in  other  hands,  shall  have  other  fame.  Brave  Laperouse 
shall  by  and  by  lift  anchor,  on  philanthropic  Voyage  of  Dis- 
^27th  July  1778.  /9th  and  12th  April   1782. 


1776-81]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  41 

covery ;  for  the  King  knows  Geography.^  But,  alas,  this  also 
will  not  prosper:  the  brave  Navigator  goes,  and  returns  not; 
the  Seekers  search  far  seas  for  him  in  vain.  He  has  vanished 
trackless  into  blue  Immensity ;  and  only  some  mournful  mys- 
terious shadow  of  him  hovers  long  in  all  heads  and  hearts. 

Neither,  while  the  War  yet  lasts,  will  Gibraltar  surrender. 
Not  though  Crillon,  Nassau-Siegen,  with  the  ablest  projectors 
extant,  are  there ;  and  Prince  Conde  and  Prince  d'Artois 
have  hastened  to  help.  Wondrous  leather-roofed  Floating- 
batteries,  set  afloat  by  French-Spanish  Facte  de  Famille,  give 
gallant  summons:  to  which,  nevertheless,  Gibraltar  answers 
Plutonically,  with  mere  torrents  of  redhot  iron — as  if  stone 
Calpe  had  become  a  throat  of  the  Pit ;  and  utters  such  a  Doom's- 
blast  of  a  No,  as  all  men  must  credit./^ 

And  so,  with  this  loud  explosion,  the  noise  of  War  has 
ceased ;  an  Age  of  Benevolence  may  hope,  forever.  Our  noble 
volunteers  of  freedom  have  returned,  to  be  her  missionaries. 
Lafayette,  as  the  matchless  of  his  time,  glitters  in  the  Ver- 
sailles CEil-de-Boeuf ;  has  his  Bust  set  up  in  the  Paris  Hotel- 
de-Ville.  Democracy  stands  inexpugnable,  immeasurable,  in 
her  New  World ;  has  even  a  foot  lifted  towards  the  Old ; — 
and  our  French  Finances,  little  strengthened  by  such  work, 
are  in  no  healthy  way. 

What  to  do  with  the  Finances?  This  indeed  is  the  great 
question:  a  small  but  most  black  weather-symptom,  which  no 
radiance  of  universal  hope  can  cover.  We  saw  Turgot  cast 
forth  from  the  Controllership,  with  shrieks — for  want  of  a  For- 
tunatus'  Purse.  As  little  could  M.  de  Clugny  manage  the 
duty ;  or  indeed  do  anything,  but  consume  his  wages ;  attain 
a  "  place  in  History,"  where  as  an  inefifectual  shadow  thou 
bcholdest  him  still  lingering; — and  let  the  duty  manage  itself. 
Did  Genevese  Necker  possess  such  a  Purse,  then?  He  pos- 
sessed banker's  skill,  banker's  honesty;  credit  of  all  kinds, 
for  he  had  written  Academic  Prize  Essays,  struggled  for 
India  Companies,  given  dinners  to  Philosophes,  and  "  realized 
a  fortune  in  twenty  years."  He  possessed,  further,  a  taciturnity 
and  solemnity  ;  of  depth,  or  else  of  dulness.  How  singular  for 
Celadon  Gibbon,  false  swain  as  he  had  proved  ;    whose  father, 

SI  August  1st,  1785. 

h  Annual  Register   (Dodslcy's).  xxv.  258-267.     September,  October, 
1782. 


42  CARLYLE  [1776—84 

keeping  most  probably  his  own  gig,  "  would  not  hear  of  such 
a  union  " — to  find  now  his  forsaken  Demoiselle  Curchod  sitting 
in  the  high  places  of  the  world,  as  Minister's  Madame,  and 
"  Necker  not  jealous  !  "i 

A  new  young  Demoiselle,  one  day  to  be  famed  as  a  Madame 
and  De  Stael,  was  romping  about  the  knees  of  the  Decline 
and  Fall :  the  lady  Necker  founds  Hospitals ;  gives  solemn 
Philosophe  dinner-parties,  to  cheer  her  exhausted  Controller- 
General.  Strange  things  have  happened  :  by  clamor  of  Philoso- 
phism,  management  of  Marquis  de  Pezay,  and  Poverty  con- 
straining even  Kings.  And  so  Necker,  Atlas-like,  sustains  the 
burden  of  the  Finances,  for  five  years  long./  Without  wages, 
for  he  refused  such ;  cheered  only  by  Public  Opinion,  and  the 
ministering  of  his  noble  Wife.  With  many  thoughts  in  him, 
it  is  hoped ; — which,  however,  he  is  shy  of  uttering.  His 
Compte  Rendu,  published  by  the  royal  permission,  fresh  sign 
of  a  New  Era,  shows  wonders ; — which  what  but  the  genius 
of  some  Atlas-Necker  can  prevent  from  becoming  portents? 
In  Necker's  head  too  there  is  a  whole  pacific  French  Revolu- 
tion, of  its  kind ;  and  in  that  taciturn  dull  depth,  or  deep  dul- 
ness,  ambition  enough. 

Meanwhile,  alas,  his  Fortunatus'  Purse  turns  out  to  be 
little  other  than  the  old  "  vectigal  of  Parsimony."  Nay,  he 
too  has  to  produce  his  scheme  of  taxing:  Clergy,  Noblesse  to 
be  taxed ;  Provincial  Assemblies,  and  the  rest — like  a  mere 
Turgot !  The  expiring  M.  de  Maurepas  must  gyrate  one  other 
time.     Let  Necker  also  depart ;    not  unlamented. 

Great  in  a  private  station,  Necker  looks  on  from  the  dis- 
tance ;  abiding  his  time.  "  Eighty  thousand  copies  "  of  his 
new  Book,  which  he  calls  Ad)ninistration  des  Finances,  will  be 
sold  in  few  days.  He  is  gone ;  but  shall  return,  and  that 
more  than  once,  borne  by  a  whole  shouting  Nation.  Singular 
Controller-General  of  the  Finances ;  once  Clerk  in  Thelusson's 
Bank! 

i  Gibbon's  Letters:  date,  i6th  June  1777,  &c.  /Till  May  1781. 


1776—84]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  43 


Chapter  VI. — Windbags. 

So  marches  the  world,  in  this  its  Paper  Age,  or  Era  of 
Hope.  Not  without  obstructions,  war-explosions ;  which,  how- 
ever, heard  from  such  distance,  are  little  other  than  a  cheerful 
marching-music.  If  indeed  that  dark  living  chaos  of  Igno- ' 
ranee  and  Hunger,  five-and-twenty  million  strong,  under  your 
feet,  were  to  begin  playing! 

For  the  present,  however,  consider  Longchamp;  now  when 
Lent  is  ending,  and  the  glory  of  Paris  and  France  has  gone 
forth,  as  in  annual  wont.  Not  to  assist  at  Tenebris  Masses, 
but  to  sun  itself  and  show  itself,  and  salute  the  young  Spring.^ 
Manifold,  bright-tinted,  glittering  with  gold ;  all  through  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  in  longdrawn  variegated  rows ; — like  long- 
drawn  living  flower-borders,  tulips,  dahlias,  lilies  of  the  valley ; 
all  in  their  moving  flower-pots  (of  new-gilt  carriages)  :  pleas- 
f^ure  of  the  eye,  and  pride  of  life!  So  rolls  and  dances  the 
Procession :  steady,  of  firm  assurance,  as  if  it  rolled  on  adamant 
and  the  foundations  of  the  world ;  not  on  mere  heraldic  parch- 
ment— under  which  smoulders  a  lake  of  fire.  Dance  on,  ye^ 
""foolish  ones ;  ye  sought  not  wisdom,  neither  have  ye  found  it.  ' 
Ye  and  your  fathers  have  sown  the  wind,  ye  shall  reap  the  ■ 
whirlwind.  Was  it  not,  from  of  old,  written :  The  zvages  of 
sin  is  death? 

But  at  Longchamp,  as  elsewhere,  we  remark  for  one  thing, 
that  dame  and  cavalier  arc  waited  on  each  by  a  kind  of  human 
familiar,  named  jokci.  Little  elf,  or  imp  ;  though  young,  already 
withered ;  with  its  withered  air  of  premature  vice,  of  knowing- 
ness,  of  completed  elf-hood :  useful  in  various  emergencies. 
The  name  jokci  (jockey)  comes  from  the  English;  as  the 
thing  also  fancies  that  it  does.  Our  Anglomania,  in  fact,  is 
grown  considerable ;  prophetic  of  much.  If  France  is  to  be 
free,  why  shall  she  not,  now  when  mad  war  is  hushed,  love 
neighboring  Freedom  ?  Cultivated  men,  your  Dukes  de  Lian- 
court,  de  la  Rochefoucault  admire  the  English  Constitution, 
the  English  National  Character;  would  import  what  of  it 
they  can. 

Of  what  is  lighter,  especially  if  it  be  light  as  wind,  how 
much  easier  the  freightage !     Non- Admiral  Duke  de  Chartres 

k  Mercier,  Tableau  dc  Paris,  ii.  51.    Louvct,  Roman  dc  Faiiblas,  &c. 


44  CARLYLE  [1781—84 

(not  yet  d'Orleans  or  Egalite)    flies  to  and  fro  across  the 
Strait ;    importing  English  Fashions :    this  he,  as  hand-and- 
glove  with  an  EngHsh  Prince  of  Wales,  is  surely  qualified  to 
do.     Carriages  and  saddles ;    top-boots  and  rcdingotes,  as  we  ^  A^ 
call  riding-coats.     Nay  the  very  mode  of  riding:    for  now  no  . 
man  on  a  level  with  his  age  but  will  trot  a  I'Anglaise,  rising 
in  the  stirrups ;    scornful  of  the  old  sitfast  method,  in  which, 
according  to  Shakspeare,  "  butter  and  eggs  "  go  to  market. 
Also,  he  can  urge  the  fervid  wheels,  this  brave  Chartres  of 
ours;  no  whip  in  Paris  is  rasher  and  surer  than  the  unprofes-  1 
sional  one  of  Monseigneur. 

Elf  jokeis,  we  have  seen ;  but  see  now  real  Yorkshire 
jockeys,  and  what  they  ride  on,  and  train :  English  racers  for 
French  Races.  These  likewise  we  owe  first  (under  the  Provi- 
dence of  the  Devil)  to  Monseigneur.  Prince  d'Artois  also  has 
his  stud  of  racers.  Prince  d'Artois  has  withal  the  strangest 
horseleech :  a  moonstruck,  much-enduring  individual,  of  Neu- 
chatel  in  Switzerland — named  Jean  Paul  Marat.  A  problematic 
Chevalier  d'Eon,  now  in  petticoats,  now  in  breeches,  is  no  less 
problematic  in  London  than  in  Paris ;  and  causes  bets  and 
lawsuits.  Beautiful  days  of  international  communion !  Swin- 
dlery  and  Blackguardism  have  stretched  hands  across  the 
Channel,  and  saluted  mutually :  on  the  racecourse  of  Vincennes 
or  Sablons,  behold,  in  English  curricle-and-four,  wafted 
glorious  among  the  principalities  and  rascalities,  an  English 
Dr.  Dodd^ — for  whom  also  the  too  early  gallows  gapes. 

Duke  de  Chartres  was  a  young  Prince  of  great  promise,  as 
young  princes  often  are ;  which  promise  unfortunately  has 
belied  itself.  With  the  huge  Orleans  Property,  with  Duke  s, 
de  Penthievre  for  Father-in-law  (and  now  the  young  Brother'  ' 
in-law  Lamballe  killed  by  excesses) — he  will  one  day  be  the 
richest  man  in  France.  Meanwhile,  "  his  hair  is  all  falling  out, 
his  blood  is  quite  spoiled  " — by  early  transcendentalism  of  de- 
bauchery. Carbuncles  stud  his  face ;  dark  studs  on  a  ground 
of  burnished  copper.  A  most  signal  failure,  this  young  Prince ! 
The  stufif  prematurely  burnt  out  of  him:  little  left  but  foul 
smoke  and  ashes  of  expiring  sensualities :  what  might  have 
been  Thought,  Insight,  and  even  Conduct,  gone  now.  or  fast 
going — to  confused  darkness,  broken  by  bewildering  dazzle- 
ments ;  to  obstreperous  crotchets ;  to  activities  which  you  may 
/  Adelung,  Gcschichtc  dcr  mcnschlichcn  Narrhcit,  §  Dodd. 


1781^84]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  45 

call  semi-delirious,  or  even  semi-galvanic !  Paris  affects  to 
laugh  at  his  charioteering ;  but  he  heeds  not  such  laughter. 

On  the  other  hand,  what  a  day,  not  of  laughter,  was  that, 
when  he  threatened,  for  lucre's  sake,  to  lay  sacrilegious  hand 
on  the  Palais  Royal  Garden  \m  The  flower-parterres  shall  be 
riven  up ;  the  Chestnut  Avenues  shall  fall :  time-honored 
boscages,  under  which  the  Opera  Hamadryads  were  wont  to 
wander,  not  inexorable  to  men.  Paris  moans  aloud.  Philidor, 
from  his-  Cafe  de  la  Regence,  shall  no  longer  look  on  green- 
ness; the  loungers  and  losels  of  the  world,  where  now  shall 
they  haunt?  In  vain  is  moaning.  The  axe  glitters  ;  the  sacred 
groves  fall  crashing — for  indeed  Monseigneur  was  short  of 
money :  the  Opera  Hamadryads  fly  with  shrieks.  Shriek  not, 
ye  Opera  Hamadryads ;  or  not  as  those  that  have  no  comfort. 
He  will  surround  your  Garden  with  new  edifices  and  piazzas : 
though  narrowed,  it  shall  be  replanted ;  dizened  with  hydraulic 
jets,  cannon  which  the  sun  fires  at  noon ;  things  bodily,  things 
spiritual,  such  as  man  has  not  imagined ; — and  in  the  Palais- 
Royal  shall  again,  and  more  than  ever,  be  the  Sorcerer's  Sab- 
bath and  Satan-at-Home  of  our  Planet. 

What  will  not  mortals  attempt?  From  remote  Annonay  in 
the  Vivarais,  the  Brothers  IVIontgolfier  send  up  their  paper- 
dome,  filled  with  the  smoke  of  burnt  wool."  The  Vivarais 
Provincial  Assembly  is  to  be  prorogued  this  same  day :  Vivarais 
Assembly-members  applaud,  and  the  shouts  of  congregated 
men.     Will  victorious  Analysis  scale  the  very  Heavens,  then? 

Paris  hears  with  eager  wonder ;  Paris  shall  ere  long  see. 
From  Reveillon's  Paper-warehouse  there,  in  the  Rue  St.  An- 
toine  (a  noted  Warehouse) — the  new  Montgolfier  air-ship 
launches  itself.  Ducks  and  poultry  have  been  borne  skyward: 
but  now  shall  men  be  borne.o  Nay,  Chemist  Charles  thinks 
of  hydrogen  and  glazed  silk.  Chemist  Charles  will  himself 
ascend,  from  the  Tuileries  Garden ;  Montgolfier  solemnly 
cutting  the  cord.  By  Heaven,  this  Charles  does  also  mount, 
he  and  another !  Ten  times  ten  thousand  hearts  go  palpitating ; 
all  tongues  arc  mute  with  wonder  and  fear ; — till  a  shout,  like 
the  voice  of  seas,  rolls  after  him,  on  his  wild  way.  He  soars, 
he  dwindles  upwards ;  has  become  a  mere  gleaming  circlet — 
like  some  Turgotine  snuffbox,  what  we  call  "  Tnrgotine-Plati- 

«i  1781-82.     (Dulaure,  viii.  423.)  n  5tli  Jiiik-  1783. 

o  October  and  November  1783. 


46  CARLYLE  [1781—88 

tude ;"  like  some  new  daylight  Moon!    Finally  he  descends j 
welcomed  by  the  universe.     Duchess  Polignac,  with  a  party,  ' 
is   in  the  Bois  de   Boulogne,  waiting;    though  it  is  drizzly 
winter,  the   ist  of  December,   1783.     The  whole  chivalry  of 
France,  Duke  de  Chartres  foremost,  gallops  to  receive  him./" 

Beautiful  invention ;  mounting  heavenward,  so  beautifully, 
— so  unguidably !  Emblem  of  much,  and  of  our  Age  of  Hope 
itself;  which  shall  mount,  specifically-light,  majestically  in  this 
same  manner ;  and  hover — tumbling  whither  Fate  will.  Well 
if  it  do  not,  Pilatre-like,  explode;  and  deraonnt  all  the  more 
tragically ! — So,  riding  on  windbags,  will  men  scale  the  Em- 
pyrean. 

Or  observe  Herr  Doctor  Mesmer,  in  his  spacious  Magnetic 
Halls.  Long-stoled  he  walks ;  reverend,  glancing  upwards,  as 
in  rapt  commerce ;  an  Antique  Egyptian  Hierophant  in  this 
new  age.  Soft  music  flits ;  breaking  fitfully  the  sacred  still- 
ness. Round  their  Magnetic  Mystery,  which  to  the  eye  is  mere 
tubs  with  water — sit  breathless,  rod  in  hand,  the  circles  of 
Beauty  and  Fashion,  each  circle  a  living  circular  Passion- 
Flozver;  expecting  the  magnetic  afflatus,  and  new-manufactured 
Fleaven-on-Earth.  O  women,  O  men,  great  is  your  infidel- 
faith  !  A  Parlementary  Duport,  a  Bergasse,  D'Espremenil  we 
notice  there ;  Chemist  Berthollet  too — on  the  part  of  Mon- 
seigneur  de  Chartres. 

Had  not  the  Academy  of  Sciences,  with  its  Baillys,  Frank- 
lins, Lavoisiers,  interfered !  But  it  did  interfere.?  Mesmer  may 
pocket  his  hard  money,  and  withdraw.  Let  him  walk  silent 
by  the  shore  of  the  Bodensee,  by  the  ancient  town  of  Con- 
stance ;  meditating  on  much.  For  so,  under  the  strangest  new 
vesture,  the  old  great  truth  (since  no  vesture  can  hide  it)  begins 
again  to  be  revealed :  That  man  is  what  we  call  a  miraculous 
creature,  with  miraculous  power  over  men ;  and,  on  the  whole, 
with  such  a  Life  in  him,  and  such  a  World  round  him,  as  vic- 
torious Analysis,  with  her  Physiologies,  Nervous-systems, 
Physic  and  Metaphysic,  will  never  completely  name,  to  say 
nothing  of  explaining.  Wherein  also  the  Quack  shall,  in  all 
ages,  come  in  for  his  share.  > 

p  Lacretelle,  iSnie  Siecle,  iii.  258. 
q  August  1784. 


1781—88]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  47 


Chapter  VII. — Contrat  Social. 

In  such  succession  of  singular  prismatic  tints,  flush  after 
flush  suffusing  our  horizon,  does  the  Era  of  Hope  dawn  on 
towards  fulfilment.  Questionahle !  As  indeed,  with  an  Era 
of  Hope  that  rests  on  mere  universal  Benevolence,  victorious 
Analysis,  Vice  cured  of  its  deformity;  and,  in  the  longrun,- 
on  Twenty-five  dark  savage  Millions,  looking  up,  in  hunger 
and  weariness,  to  that  Eccc-signum  of  theirs  "  forty  feet  high," 
— how  could  it  but  be  questionable? 

Through  ail  time,  if  we  read  aright,  sin  was,  is,  will  be,  the 
parent  of  misery.  This  land  calls  itself  most  Christian,  and 
has  crosses  and  cathedrals ;  but  its  High-priest  is  some  Roche-  "^  ^ 
Aymon,  some  Necklace-Cardinal  Louis  de  Rohan.  The  voice  J  .^ 
of  the  poor,  through  long  years,  ascends  inarticulate,  in  Jac- 
queries, meal-mobs ;  low-whimpering  of  infinite  moan :  un- 
heeded of  the  Earth  ;  not  unheeded  of  Heaven.  Always  more- 
over where  the  Millions  are  wretched,  there  are  the  Thousands 
straitened,  unhappy ;  only  the  Units  can  flourish ;  or  say  rather, 
be  ruined  the  last.  Industry,  all  noosed  and  haltered,  as  if  it 
too  were  some  beast  of  chase  for  the  mighty  hunters  of  this 
world  to  bait,  and  cut  slices  from — cries  passionately  to  these 
its  well-paid  guides  and  watchers,  not,  Guide  me;  but,  Laissez 
faire,  Leave  me  alone  of  your  guidance !  What  market  has 
Industry  in  this  France?  For  two  things  there  may  be  market 
and  demand :  for  the  coarser  kind  of  field-fruits,  since  the 
Millions  will  live,  for  the  finer  kinds  of  luxury  and  spicery — 
of  multiform  taste,  from  opera-melodies  down  to  racers  and 
courtesans ;  since  the  Units  will  be  amused.  It  is  at  bottom 
but  a  mad  state  of  things. 

To  mend  and  remake  all  which  we  have,  indeed,  victorious 
Analysis.  Honor  to  victorious  Analysis;  nevertheless,  out  of 
the  Workshop  and  Laboratory,  what  thing  was  victorious  Ana- 
lysis yet  known  to  make  ?  Detection  of  incoherences,  mainly ; 
destruction  of  the  incoherent.  From  of  old.  Doubt  was  but 
half  a  magician ;  she  evokes  the  spectres  which  she  cannot 
quell.  We  shall  have  "  endless  vortices  of  froth-logic ;" 
whereon  first  words,  and  then  things,  are  whirled  and  swal- 
lowed. Remark,  accordingly,  as  acknowledged  groimds  of 
Hope,  at  bottom  mere  precursors  of  Despair,  this  perpetual 


48  CARLYLE  [1781—88 

theorizing  about  Man,  the  Mind  of  Man,  Philosophy  of  Gov- 
ernment, Progress  of  the  Species  and  such-Uke ;  the  main 
thinking  furniture  of  every  head.  Time,  and  so  many  Montes- 
quieus,  Mablys,  spokesmen  of  Time,  have  discovered  innumer- 
able things :  and  now  has  not  Jean  Jacques  promulgated  his 
new  Evangel  of  a  Contrat  Social;  explaining  the  whole  mys-  j 
tery  of  Government,  and  how  it  is  contracted  and  bargained 
for — to  universal  satisfaction?  Theories  of  Government !  Such 
have  been,  and  will  be ;  in  ages  of  decadence.  Acknowledge 
them  in  their  degree ;  as  processes  of  Nature,  who  does  noth- 
ing in  vain ;  as  steps  in  her  great  process.  Meanwhile,  what 
theory  is  so  certain  as  this.  That  all  theories,  were  they  never 
so  earnest,  painfully  elaborated,  are,  and,  by  the  very  condi- 
tions of  them,  must  be  incomplete,  questionable,  and  even  false  ? 
Thou  shalt  know  that  this  Universe  is,  what  it  professes  to 
be,  an  infinite  one.  Attempt  not  to  swallow  it,  for  thy  logical 
digestion ;  be  thankful,  if  skilfully  planting  down  this  and  the 
other  fixed  pillar  in  the  chaos,  thou  prevent  its  swallowing  thee. 
That  a  new  young  generation  has  exchanged  the  Sceptic  Creed, 
What  shall  I  believe  f  for  passionate  Faith  in  this  Gospel  accord- 
ing to  Jean  Jacques  is  a  further  step  in  the  business ;  and  be- 
tokens much. 

Blessed  also  is  Hope ;  and  always  from  the  beginning  there 
was  some  Millennium  prophesied  ;  Millennium  of  Holiness  ;  but 
(what  is  notable)  never  till  this  new  Era,  any  Millennium  of 
mere  Ease  and  plentiful  Supply.  In  such  prophesied  Lubber- 
land,  of  Happiness,  Benevolence,  and  Vice  cured  of  its  de- 
formity, trust  not,  my  friends !  Man  is  not  what  one  calls  a 
happy  animal ;  his  appetite  for  sweet  victual  is  so  enormous. 
How,  in  this  wild  Universe,  which  storms  in  on  him,  infinite, 
vague-menacing,  shall  poor  man  find,  say  not  happiness,  but 
existence,  and  footing  to  stand  on,  if  it  be  not  by  girding  himself 
together  for  continual  endeavor  and  endurance?  Woe,  if  in 
his  heart  there  dwelt  no  devout  Faith  ;  if  the  word  Duty  had 
lost  its  meaning  for  him !  For  as  to  this  of  Sentimentalism,  so 
useful  for  weeping  with  over  romances  and  on  pathetic  occa- 
sions, it  otherwise  verily  will  avail  nothing ;  nay  less.  The 
healthy  heart  that  said  to  itself,  "  How  healthy  am  I !  "  was 
already  fallen  into  the  fatalest  sort  of  disease.  Is  not  Senti- 
mentalism twin-sister  to  Cant,  if  not  one  and  the  same  with  it? 
Is  not  Cant  the  materia  prima  of  the  Devil ;  from  which  all  false- 


1781-83]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  49 

hoods,  imbecilities,  abominations  body  themselves  ;  from  which 
no  true  thing  can  come  ?  For  Cant  is  itself  properly  a  double- 
distilled  Lie ;  the  second-power  of  a  Lie. 

And  now  if  a  whole  Nation  fall  into  that  ?  In  such  case,  I 
answer,  infallibly  they  will  return  out  of  it !  For  life  is  no  cun- 
ningly-devised deception  or  self-deception :  it  is  a  great  truth 
that  thou  art  alive,  that  thou  hast  desires,  necessities ;  neither 
can  these  subsist  and  satisfy  themselves  on  delusions,  but  on 
fact.  To  fact,  depend  on  it,  we  shall  come  back ;  to  such  fact, 
blessed  or  cursed,  as  we  have  wisdom  for.  The  lowest,  least 
blessed  fact  one  knows  of,  on  which  necessitous  mortals  have 
ever  based  themselves,  seems  to  be  the  primitive  one  of  Canni- 
balism :  That  /  can  devour  Thee.  What  if  such  Primitive  Fact 
were  precisely  the  one  we  had  (with  our  improved  methods)  to 
revert  to,  and  begin  anew  from ! 


Chapter  VIII. — Printed  Paper. 

In  such  a  practical  France,  let  the  theory  of  Perfectibility  say 
what  it  will,  discontents  cannot  be  wanting  your  promised 
Reformation  is  so  indispensable;  yet  it  comes  not;  who  will 
begin  it — with  himself?  Discontent  with  what  is  around  us, 
still  more  with  what  is  above  us,  goes  on  increasing;  seeking 
ever  new  vents. 

Of  Street  Ballads,  of  Epigrams  that  from  of  old  tempered 
Despotism,  we  need  not  speak.  Nor  of  Manuscript  News- 
papers (Nouvellcs  a  la  main)  do  we  speak.  Bachaumont  and 
his  journeymen  and  followers  may  close  those  "thirty  volumes 
of  scurrilous  eaves-dropping,"  and  quit  that  trade  ;  for  at  length 
if  not  liberty  of  the  Press,  there  is  license.  Pamphlets  can  be 
surreptitiously  vended  and  read  in  Paris,  did  they  even  bear  to 
be  "Printed  at  Pekin."  We  have  a  Coiirrier  de  V Europe  in 
those  years,  regularly  published  at  London ;  by  a  De  Morande, 
whom  the  guillotine  has  not  yet  devoured.  There,  too,  an 
unruly  Linguet,  still  unguillotined,  when  his  own  country  has 
become  too  hot  for  him,  and  his  brother  Advocates  have  cast 
him  out,  can  emit  for  his  hoarse  wailings,  and  Bastille  Dcvoilce 
(Bastille  Unveiled).  Loquacious  Abbe  Raynal,  at  length,  has 
his  wish  ;  sees  the  Histoire  Phihsophiquc,  with  its  "  lubricity," 
unveracity,  loose  loud  eleutheromaniac  rant  (contributed,  they 
say,  by  Philosophcdom  at  large,  though  in  the  Abbe's  name, 
Vol.  I.— 4 


cro  CARLYLE  [1784-86 


J 


and  to  his  glory),  burnt  by  the  common  hangman ; — and  sets 
out  on  his  travels  as  a  martyr.  It  was  the  Edition  of  1781 ;  per- 
haps the  last  notable  Book  that  had  such  fire-beatitude, — the 
hangman  discovering  now  that  it  did  not  serve. 

Again,  in  Courts  of  Law,  with  their  money-quarrels,  divorce- 
cases,  wheresoever  a  glimpse  into  the  household  existence  can 
be  had,  what  indications !  The  Parlements  of  Besangon  and 
Aix  ring,  audible  to  all  France,  with  the  amours  and  destinies 
of  a  young  Mirabeau.  He,  under  the  nurture  of  a  "  Friend  of 
Men,"  has,  in  State  Prisons,  in  marching  Regiments,  Dutch 
Authors'-garrets,  and  quite  other  scenes,  "  been  for  twenty 
years  learning  to  resist  despotism  "  :  despotism  of  men,  and  alas 
also  of  gods.  How,  beneath  this  rose-colored  veil  of  Universal 
Benevolence  and  Astrcca  Redux,  is  the  sanctuary  of  Home  so 
often  a  dreary  void,  or  a  dark  contentious  Hell-on-Earth  !  The 
old  Friend  of  Men  has  his  own  divorce-case  too ;  and  at  times, 
"  his  whole  family  but  one  "  under  lock  and  key :  he  writes 
much  about  reforming  and  enfranchising  the  world  ;  and  for  his 
own  private  behoof  he  has  needed  sixty  Lettrcs-de-Cachct.  A 
man  of  insight  too ;  with  resolution,  even  with  manful  prin- 
ciple :  but  in  such  an  element,  inward  and  outward ;  which 
he  could  not  rule,  but  only  madden.  Edacity,  rapacity  ; — quite 
contrary  to  the  finer  sensibilities  of  the  heart !  Fools,  that  ex- 
pect your  verdant  Millennium,  and  nothing  but  Love  and 
Abundance,  brooks  running  wine,  winds  whispering  music, — 
with  the  whole  ground  and  basis  of  your  existence  champed 
into  a  mud  of  Sensuality ;  which,  daily  growing  deeper,  will 
soon  have  no  bottom  but  the  Abyss  ! 

Or  consider  that  unutterable  business  of  the  Diamond  Neck- 
lace. Red-hatted  Cardinal  Louis  de  Rohan ;  Sicilian  jail-bird 
Balsamo  Cagliostro ;  milliner  Dame  de  Lamotte,  "  with  a  face 
of  some  piquancy :  "  the  highest  Church  Dignitaries  waltzing, 
in  Walpurgis  Dance,  with  quack-prophets,  pickpurses  and  pub- 
lic women  ; — a  whole  Satan's  Invisible  World  displayed  ;  work- 
ing there  continually  under  the  daylight  visible  one ;  the  smoke 
of  its  torment  going  up  forever !  The  Throne  has  been  brought 
into  scandalous  collision  with  the  Treadmill.  Astonished 
Europe  rings  with  the  mystery  for  nine  months ;  sees  only  He 
unfold  itself  from  lie ;  corruption  among  the  lofty  and  the  low, 
gulosity,  credulity,  imbecility,  strength  nowhere  but  in  the  hun- 
ger.    Weep,  fair  Queen,  thy  first  tears  of  unmixed  wretched- 


1784—86]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  51 

ness !  Thy  fair  name  has  been  tarnished  by  foul  breath ;  irre- 
mediably while  life  lasts.  No  more  shalt  thou  be  loved  and 
pitied  by  living  hearts,  till  a  new  generation  has  been  born,  and 
thy  own  heart  lies  cold,  cured  of  all  its  sorrows. — The  Epigrams 
henceforth  become,  not  sharp  and  bitter ;  but  cruel,  atrocious, 
unmentionable.  On  that  31st  of  May,  17S6,  a  miserable  Car- 
dinal Grand-Almoner  Rohan,  on  issuing  from  his  Bastille,  is 
escorted  by  hurrahing  crowds:  unloved  he,  and  worthy  of  no 
love ;  but  important  since  the  Court  and  Queen  are  his  ene- 
mies.a  "^ 

How  is  our  bright  Era  of  Hope  dimmed ;  and  the  whole  sky 
growing  bleak  with  signs  of  hurricane  and  earthquake!  It 
is  a  doomed  world :  gone  all  "  obedience  that  made  men  free ;  " 
fast  going  the  obedience  that  made  men  slaves — -at  least  to  one 
another.  Slaves  only  of  their  own  lusts  they  now  are,  and  will 
be.  Slaves  of  sin ;  inevitably  also  of  sorrow.  Behold  the 
mouldering  mass  of  Sensuality  and  Falsehood ;  round  which 
plays  foolishly,  itself  a  corrupt  phosphorescence,  some  glim- 
mer of  Sentimentalism  ; — and  over  all,  rising,  as  Ark  of  their 
Covenant,  the  grim  Patibulary  Fork  "  forty  feet  high  ;  "  which 
also  is  now  nigh  rotted.  Add  only  that  the  French  Nation  dis- 
tinguishes itself  among  Nations  by  the  characteristic  of  Ex- 
citability ;  with  the  good,  but  also  with  the  perilous  evil,  which 
belongs  to  that.  Rebellion,  explosion,  of  unknown  extent  is 
to  be  calculated  on.  There  are,  as  Chesterfield  wrote,  "  a^l  the 
symptoms  I  have  ever  met  with  in  History  !  " 

Shall  we  say,  then :  Woe  to  Philosophism,  that  it  destroyed-^ 
Religion,  what  it  called  "extinguishing  the  abomination 
(ccrascr  Fin  fame)  "  ?  Woe  rather  to  those  that  made  the  Holy 
an  abomination,  and  extinguisliable ;  woe  to  all  men  that  live 
in  such  a  time  of  world-abomination  and  world-destruction ! 
Nay,  answer  the  Courtiers,  it  was  Turgot,  it  was  Necker,  with 
their  mad  innovating ;  it  was  the  Queen's  want  of  etiquette  ;  it 
was  he,  it  was  she,  it  was  that.  Friends !  it  was  every  scoundrel 
that  had  lived,  and  quack-like  pretended  to  be  doing,  and  been 
only  eating  and  ?;//,9doing,  in  all  provinces  of  life,  as  Shoeblack 
or  as  Sovereign  Lord,  each  in  his  degree,  from  the  time  of 
Charlemagne  and  earlier.  All  this  (for  be  sure  no  falsehood 
perishes,  but  is  as  seed  sown  out  to  grow)  has  been  storing  itself 

cFils  Adoptif,  Mhnoires  de  Mirabcau,  iv.  325. — See  Carlylc's  Bio- 
graphical Essays,  sec.  Diamond  Necklace,  §  Count  Cagliostro. 


52  CARLYLE  [1784—88 

for  thousands  of  years ;  and  now  the  account-day  has  come. 
And  rude  will  the  settlement  be :  of  wrath  laid  up  against  the 
day  of  wrath.  O  my  Brother,  be  not  thou  a  Quack !  Die 
rather,  if  thou  wilt  take  counsel ;  'tis  but  dying  once,  and  thou 
art  quit  of  it  forever.  Cursed  is  that  trade ;  and  bears  curses, 
thou  knowest  not  how,  long  ages  after  thou  art  departed,  and 
the  wages  thou  hadst  are  all  consumed ;  nay,  as  the  ancient 
wise  have  written — through  Eternity  itself,  and  is  verily 
marked  in  the  Doom-Book  of  a  God ! 

Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick.  And  yet,  as  we  said, 
Hope  is  but  deferred ;  not  abolished,  not  abolishable.  It  is 
very  notable,  and  touching,  how  this  same  Hope  does  still  light 
onward  the  French  Nation  through  all  its  wild  destinies.  For 
we  shall  still  find  Hope  shining,  be  it  for  fond  invitation,  be  it 
for  anger  and  menace ;  as  a  mild  heavenly  light  it  shone ;  as 
a  red  conflagration  it  shines :  burning  sulphurous-blue, 
through  darkest  regions  of  Terror,  it  still  shines ;  and  goes 
not  out  at  all,  since  Desperation  itself  is  a  kind  of  Hope.  Thus 
is  our  Era  still  to  be  named  of  Hope,  though  in  the  saddest 
sense — which  there  is  nothing  left  but  Hope. 

But  if  any  one  would  know  summarily  what  a  Pandora's  Box 
lies  there  for  the  opening,  he  may  see  it  in  what  by  its  nature 
is  the  symptom  of  all  symptoms,  the  surviving  Literature  of 
the  Period.  Abbe  Raynal,  with  his  lubricity  and  loud  loose 
rant,  has  spoken  his  word  ;  and  already  the  fast-hastening  gen- 
eration responds  to  another.  Glance  at  Beaumarchais' 
Mariage  de  Figaro;  which  now  (in  1784),  after  difficulty 
enough,  has  issued  on  the  stage ;  and  "  runs  its  hundred 
nights,"  to  the  admiration  of  all  men.  By  what  virtue  or  in- 
ternal vigor  it  so  ran,  the  reader  of  our  day  will  rather  wonder : 
— and  indeed  will  know  so  much  the  better  that  it  flattered 
some  pruriency  of  the  time  ;  that  it  spoke  what  all  were  feeling, 
and  longing  to  speak.  Small  substance  in  that  Figaro:  thin 
wiredrawn  intrigues,  thin  wiredrawn  sentiments  and  sarcasms ; 
a  thing  lean,  barren  ;  yet  which  winds  and  whisks  itself,  as 
through  a  wholly  mad  universe,  adroitly,  with  a  high-sniffing 
air:  wherein  each,  as  was  hinted,  which  is  the  grand  secret, 
may  see  some  image  of  himself,  and  of  his  own  state  and  ways. 
So  it  runs  its  hundred  nights,  and  all  France  runs  with  it ; 
laughing  applause.  If  the  soliloquizing  Barber  ask :  "  What 
has  your  Lordship  done  to  earn  all  this?  "  and  can  only  answer: 


1784-88]  THE  FRENCIT  RffvaLUTlCTN  53 

"  You  took  the  trouble  to  be  born  (Voits  z'ous  ctcs  donnc  la  peine 
de  naifre),"  all  men  must  laugh  :  and  a  gay  horse-racing  Anglo- 
maniac  Noblesse  loudest  of  all.  For  how  can  small  books  have 
a  great  danger  in  them  ?  asks  the  Sieur  Caron  ;  and  fancies 
his  thin  epigram  may  be  a  kind  of  reason.  Conqueror  of  a 
golden  fleece,  by  giant  smuggling ;  tamer  of  hell-dogs,  in  the 
Parlement  Maupeou ;  and  finally  crowned  Orpheus  in  the 
Theatre  Franeais,  Beaumarchais  has  now  culminated,  and  unites 
the  attributes  of  several  demigods.  We  shall  meet  him  once 
again,  in  the  course  of  his  decline. 

Still  more  significant  are  two  Books  produced  on  the  eve  of 
the  ever-memorable  Explosion  itself,  and  read  eagerly  by  all 
the  world:  Saint-Pierre's  Paid  et  Virginie,  and  Louvet's 
Chevalier  de  Faitblas.  Noteworthy  Books ;  which  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  last-speech  of  old  Feudal  France.  In  the  first 
there  rises  melodiously,  as  it  were,  the  wail  of  a  moribund 
world  :  everywhere  wholesome  Nature  in  unequal  conflict  with 
diseased  perfidious  Art ;  cannot  escape  from  it  in  the  lowest 
hut,  in  the  remotest  island  of  the  sea.  Ruin  and  death  must 
strike  down  the  loved  one  ;  and,  what  is  most  significant  of  all, 
death  even  here  not  by  necessity  but  by  etiquette.  What  a 
world  of  prurient  corruption  lies  visible  in  that  super-sublime 
of  modesty !  Yet,  on  the  whole,  our  good  Saint-Pierre  is  mu- 
sical, poetical  though  most  morbid :  we  will  call  his  Book  the 
swan-song  of  old  dying  France. 

Louvet's,  again,  let  no  man  account  musical.  Truly,  if  this 
wretched  Fanblas  is  a  death-speech,  it  is  one  under  the  gallows, 
and  by  a  felon  that  does  not  repent.  Wretched  cloaca  of  a 
Book;  without  depth  even  as  a  cloaca!  What  "picture  of 
French  society  "  is  here  ?  Picture  properly  of  nothing,  if  not 
of  the  mind  that  gave  it  out  as  some  sort  of  picture.  Yet  symp- 
tom of  much ;  above  all,  of  the  world  that  could  nourish  itself 
thereon. 


BOOK   THIRD. 

THE  PARLEMENT  OF  PARIS. 

Chapter  I. — Dishonored  Bills. 

WHILE  the  unspeakable  confusion  is  everywhere  welter- 
ing within,  and  through  so  many  cracks  in  the  surface 
sulphur-smoke  is  issuing,  the  question  arises: 
Through  what  crevice  will  the  main  Explosion  carry  itself? 
Through  which  of  the  old  craters  or  chimneys ;  or  must  it,  at 
once,  form  a  new  crater  for  itself?  In  every  Society  are  such 
chimneys,  are  Institutions  serving  as  such :  even  Constantinople 
is  not  without  its  safety-valves ;  there,  too,  Discontent  can  vent 
itself, — in  material  fire ;  by  the  number  of  nocturnal  conflagra- 
tions, or  of  hanged  bakers,  the  Reigning  Power  can  read  the 
signs  of  the  times,  and  change  course  according  to  these. 

We  may  say  that  this  French  Explosion  will  doubtless  first  try 
all  the  old  Institutions  of  escape ;  for  by  each  of  these  there  is, 
or  at  least  there  used  to  be,  some  communication  with  the  in- 
terior deep ;  they  are  national  Institutions  in  virtue  of  that. 
Had  they  even  become  personal  Institutions,  and  what  we  can 
call  choked  up  from  their  original  uses,  there  nevertheless  must 
the  impediment  be  weaker  than  elsewhere.  Through  which 
of  them,  then?  An  observer  might  have  guessed  :  Through  the  ■ 
Law  Parlements ;  above  all,  through  the  Parlement  of  Paris.     ^  "^ 

Men,  though  never  so  thickly  clad  in  dignities,  sit  not  inac- 
cessible to  the  influences  of  their  time;  especially  men  whose 
life  is  business  ;  who  at  all  turns,  were  it  even  from  behind  judg- 
ment-seats, have  come  in  contact  with  the  actual  workings  of 
the  world.  The  Counsellor  of  Parlement,  the  President  him- 
self, who  has  bought  his  place  with  hard  money  that  he  might 
be  looked  up  to  by  his  fellow-creatures,  how  shall  he,  in  all 
Philosophe-soirees,  and  saloons  of  elegant  culture,  become  not- 
able as  a  Friend  of  Darkness?  Among  the  Paris  Long-robes 
there  may  be  more  than  one  patriotic  Malesherbes,  whose  rule 

54 


1781—83]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  55 

is  conscience  and  the  public  good ;  there  are  clearly  more  than 
one  hotheaded  D'Espremenil,  to  whose  confused  thought  any 
loud  reputation  of  the  Brutus  sort  may  seem  glorious.  The 
Lepelletiers,  Lamoignons  have  titles  and  wealth ;  yet,  at  Court, 
are  only  styled  "  Noblesse  of  the  Robe."  There  are  Duports  of 
deep  scheme ;  Freteaus,  Sabatiers,  of  incontinent  tongue :  all 
nursed  more  or  less  on  the  milk  of  the  Contrat  Social.  Nay,  for 
the  whole  Body,  is  not  this  patriotic  opposition  also  a  fighting 
for  oneself?  Awake,  Parlement  of  Paris,  renew  thy  long  war-- 
fare !  Was  not  the  Parlement  Maupeou  abolished  with  ig- 
nominy ?  Not  now  hast  thou  to  dread  a  Louis  XIV,  with  the 
crack  of  his  whip,  and  his  Olympian  looks ;  not  now  a  Richelieu 
and  Bastilles :  no,  the  whole  Nation  is  behind  thee.  Thou  too 
(O  heavens!)  mayest  become  a  Political  Power;  and  with  the 
shakings  of  thy  horse-hair  wig  shake  principalities  and 
dynasties,  like  a  very  Jove  with  his  ambrosial  curls! 

Light  old  M.  de  Maurepas,  since  the  end  of  1781,  has  been 
fixed  in  the  frost  of  death :  "  Never  more,"  said  the  good  Louis, 
"  shall  I  hear  his  step  in  the  room  there  overhead ;  "  his  light 
jestings  and  gyratings  are  at  an  end.  No  more  can  the  im- 
portunate reality  be  hidden  by  pleasant  wit,  and  to-day's  evil 
be  deftly  rolled  over  upon  to-morrow.  The  morrow  itself  has 
arrived ;  and  now  nothing  but  a  solid  phlegmatic  M.  de  Ver- 
gennes  sits  there,  in  dull  matter  of  fact,  like  some  dull  punctual 
Clerk  (which  he  originally  was)  ;  admits  what  cannot  be  de- 
nied, let  the  remedy  come  whence  it  will.  In  him  is  no  remedy ; 
only  clcrklike  "despatch  of  business"  according  to  routine. 
The  poor  King,  grown  older  yet  hardly  more  experienced,  must 
himself,  with  such  no-faculty  as  he  has,  begin  governing; 
wherein  also  his  Queen  will  give  help.  Bright  Queen,  with  her 
quick  clear  glances  and  impulses ;  clear,  and  even  noble ;  but  all 
too  superficial,  vehement-shallow,  for  that  work !  To  govern 
France  were  such  a  problem ;  and  now  it  has  grown  well-nigh 
too  hard  to  govern  even  the  CEil-de-Boeuf.  For  if  a  distressed 
People  has  its  cry,  so  likewise,  and  more  audibly,  has  a  bereaved 
Court.  To  the  CFil-de-Boeuf  it  remains  inconceivable  how,  in 
a  France  of  such  resources,  the  Horn  of  Plenty  should  run  dry : 
did  it  not  use  to  flow  ?  Nevertheless  Nccker,  with  his  revenue 
of  parsimony,  has  "suppressed  above  six  hundred  places,"  be- 
fore the  Courtiers  could  oust  him ;  parsimonious  finance-pedant 
as  he  was.     Again,  a  military  pedant,  Saint-German,  with  his 


56  CARLYLE  [1781—83 

Prussian  manoeuvres;  with  his  Prussian  notions,  as  if  merit 
and  not  coat-of-arms  should  be  the  rule  of  promotion,  has  dis- 
affected military  men;  the  Mousquetaires,  with  much  else  are 
suppressed :  for  he  too  was  one  of  your  suppressors ;  and  un- 
settling and  oversetting,  did  mere  mischief — to  the  QEil-de- 
Boeuf.  Complaints  abound ;  scarcity,  anxiety :  it  is  a  changed 
Gi^il-de-Boeuf.  Besenval  says,  already  in  these  years  (1781) 
there  was  such  a  melancholy  (such  a  tristessc)  about  Court, 
compared  with  former  days,  as  made  it  quite  dispiriting  to  look 
upon. 

No  wonder  that  the  CEil-de-Boeuf  feels  melancholy,  when  you 
are  suppressing  its  places !  Not  a  place  can  be  suppressed,  but 
some  purse  is  the  lighter  for  it ;  and  more  than  one  heart  the 
heavier ;  for  did  it  not  employ  the  working-classes  too, — manu- 
facturers, male  and  female,  of  laces,  essences ;  of  Pleasure  gen- 
erally, whosoever  could  manufacture  Pleasure?  Miserable 
economies ;  never  felt  over  Twenty-five  Millions !  So,  how-  j 
ever,  it  goes  on :  and  is  not  yet  ended.  Few  years  more  and  the 
Wolf-hounds  shall  fall  suppressed,  the  Bear-hounds,  the  Fal- 
conry ;  places  shall  fall,  thick  as  autumnal  leaves.  Duke  de 
Polignac  demonstrates,  to  the  complete  silencing  of  ministerial 
logic,  that  his  place  cannot  be  abolished ;  then  gallantly,  turning 
to  the  Queen,  surrenders  it,  since  her  Majesty  so  wishes.  Less 
chivalrous  was  Duke  de  Coigny,  and  yet  not  luckier :  "  We  got 
into  a  real  quarrel,  Coigny  and  I,"  said  King  Louis;  "but  if 
he  had  even  struck  me,  I  could  not  have  blamed  him."  a  In  re- 
gard to  such  matters  there  can  be  but  one  opinion.  Baron 
Besenval,  with  that  frankness  of  speech  which  stamps  the  in- 
dependent man,  plainly  assures  her  Majesty  that  it  is  frightful 
(affreux)  ;  "  you  go  to  bed,  and  are  not  sure  but  you  shall  rise 
impoverished  on  the  morrow :  one  might  as  well  be  in  Turkey." 
It  is  indeed  a  dog's  life. 

How  singular  this  perpetual  distress  of  the  royal  treasury! 
And  yet  it  is  a  thing  not  more  incredible  than  undeniable.  A 
thing  mournfully  true :  the  stumbling-block  on  which  all  Minis- 
ters successively  stumble,  and  fall.  Be  it  "  want  of  fiscal  gen-  ^ 
ius,"  or  some  far  other  want,  there  is  the  palpablcst  discrep- 
ancy between  Revenue  and  Expenditure ;  a  Deficit  of  the  - 
Revenue :  you  must  "  choke  (comblcr)  the  Deficit."  or  else  it 
will  swallow  you !     This  is  the  stern  problem ;  hopeless  seem- 

a  Besenval,  iii.  255-58. 


1783]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  57 

ingly  as  squaring  of  the  circle.  Controller  Joly  de  Fleury,  who 
succeeded  Necker,  could  do  nothing  with  it;  nothing  but  pro-  . 
pose  loans,  which  were  tardily  filled  up  ;  impose  new  taxes,  un- 1 J^ 
productive  of  money,  productive  of  clamor  and  discontent.  As_ 
little  could  Controller  d'Ormesson  do,  or  even  less ;  for  if  Joly 
maintained  himself  beyond  year  and  day,  D'Ormesson  reckons 
only  by  months :  till  "the  King  purchased  Rambouillet  without 
consulting  him,"  which  he  took  as  a  hint  to  withdraw.  And  so, 
towards  the  end  of  1783,  matters  threaten  to  come  to  a  still- 
stand.  Vain  seems  human  ingenuity.  In  vain  has  our  newly- 
devised  "  Council  of  Finances  "  struggled,  our  Intendants  of 
Finance,  Controller-General  of  Finances :  there  are  unhappily 
no  Finances  to  control.  Fatal  paralysis  invades  the  social 
movement ;  clouds,  of  blindness  or  of  blackness,  envelop  us : 
are  we  breaking  down,  then,  into  the  black  horrors  of  National 
Bankruptcy  ? 

Great  is  Bankruptcy :  the  great  bottomless  gulf  into  which  all 
Falsehoods,  public  and  private,  do  sink,  disappearing;  whither, 
from  the  first  origin  of  them,  they  were  all  doomed.  For 
Nature  is  true  and  not  a  lie.  No  lie  you  can  speak  or  act  but 
it  will  come,  after  longer  or  shorter  circulation,  like  a  Bill 
drawn  on  Nature's  Reality,  and  be  presented  there  for  pay- 
ment— with  the  answer.  No  effects.  Pity  only  that  it  often 
had  so  long  a  circulation :  that  the  original  forger  were  so 
seldom  he  who  bore  the  final  smart  of  it !  Lies,  and  the 
burden  of  evil  they  bring,  are  passed  on;  shifted  from  back 
to  back,  and  from  rank  to  rank ;  and  so  land  ultimately  on 
the  dumb  lowest  rank,  who  with  spade  and  mattock,  with  sore 
heart  and  empty  wallet,  daily  come  in  contact  with  reality, 
and  can  pass  the  cheat  no  further. 

Observe  nevertheless  how,  by  a  just  compensating  law,  if 
the  lie  with  its  burden  (in  this  confused  whirlpool  of  Society) 
sinks  and  is  shifted  ever  downwards,  then  in  return  the  dis- 
tress of  it  rises  ever  upwards  and  upwards.  Whereby,  after 
the  long  pining  and  demi-starvation  of  those  Twenty  Millions, 
a  Duke  de  Coigny  and  his  Majesty  come  also  to  have  their 
"real  quarrel."  Such  is  the  law  of  just  Nature;  bringing, 
though  at  long  intervals,  and  were  it  only  by  Bankruptcy, 
matters  round  again  to  the  mark. 

But  with  a  Fortunatus'  Purse  in  his  pocket,  through  what 
length  of  time  might  not  almost  any  Falsehood  last !    Your 


58  CARLYLE  [1783 

Society,  your  Household,  practical  or  spiritual  Arrangements, 
is  untrue,  unjust,  offensive  to  the  eye  of  God  and  man.  Never- 
theless its  heart  is  warm,  its  larder  well  replenished ;  the 
innumberable  Swiss  of  Heaven,  with  a  kind  of  natural  loyalty, 
gather  round  it ;  will  prove,  by  pamphleteering,  musketeering, 
that  it  is  a  truth  ;  or  if  not  an  unmixed  (unearthly,  impossible) 
Truth,  then  better,  a  wholesomely  attempered  one  (as  wind 
is  to  the  shorn  lamb),  and  works  well.  Changed  outlook,-) 
however,  when  purse  and  larder  grow  empty !  Was  your  Ar-  -  - 
rangement  so  true,  so  accordant  to  Nature's  ways,  then  how, 
in  the  name  of  wonder,  has  Nature,  with  her  infinite  bounty, 
come  to  leave  it  famishing  there?  To  all  men,  to  all  women 
and  all  children,  it  is  now  indubitable  that  your  Arrange- 
ment was  false.  Honor  to  Bankruptcy ;  ever  righteous  on 
the  great  scale,  though  in  detail  it  is  so  cruel!  Under  all 
Falsehoods  it  works,  unweariedly  mining.  No  Falsehood,  did 
it  rise  heaven-high  and  cover  the  world,  but  Bankruptcy,  one 
day,  will  sweep  it  down,  and  make  us  free  of  it. 

Chapter  II. — Controller  Calonne. 

Under  such  circumstances  of  tristesse,  obstruction  and  sick 
languor,  when  to  an  exasperated  Court  it  seems  as  if  fiscal 
genius  had  departed  from  among  men,  what  apparition  could 
be  welcomer  than  that  of  M.  de  Calonne?  Calonne,  a  man 
of  indisputable  genius ;  even  fiscal  genius,  more  or  less ;  of 
experience  both  in  managing  Finance  and  Parlements,  for 
he  has  been  Intendant  at  Metz,  at  Lille ;  King's  Procureur 
at  Douai.  A  man  of  weight,  connected  with  the  moneyed 
classes ;  of  unstained  name — if  it  were  not  some  peccadillo 
(of  showing  a  Client's  Letter)  in  that  old  D'Aiguillon-Lacha- 
lotais  business,  as  good  as  forgotten  now.  He  has  kinsmen  of 
heavy  purse,  felt  on  the  Stock  Exchange.  Our  Foulons,  Ber- 
thiers  intrigue  for  him : — old  Foulon,  who  has  now  nothing  to 
do  but  intrigue ;  who  is  known  and  even  seen  to  be  what  they 
call  a  scoundrel ;  but  of  unmeasured  wealth ;  who,  from  Com- 
missariat-clerk which  he  once  was,  may  hope,  some  think, 
if  the  game  go  right,  to  be  Minister  himself  one  day. 

Such  propping  and  backing  has  M.  dc  Calonne ;  and  then 
intrinsically  such  qualities !  Hope  radiates  from  his  face ; 
persuasion  hangs  on  his  tongue.    For  all  straits  he  has  present 


^ 


4/ 


1783]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  59 

remedy,  and  will  make  the  world  roll  on  wheels  before  him. 
On  the  3d  of  November,  1783,  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf  rejoices  in 
its  new  Controller-General.  Calonne  also  shall  have  trial ; 
Calonne  also,  in  his  way,  as  Turgot  and  Necker  had  done  in 
theirs,  shall  forward  the  consummation ;  suffuse,  with  one 
other  flush  of  brilliancy,  our  now  too  leaden-colored  Era  of 
Hope,  and  wind  it  up — into  fulfilment. 

Great,  in  any  case,  is  the  felicity  of  the  Qlil-de-Boeuf. 
Stinginess  has  fled  from  these  royal  abodes  :  suppression  ceases  ; 
your  Besenval  may  go  peaceably  to  sleep,  sure  that  he  shall 
awake  unplundered.  Smiling  Plenty,  as  if  conjured  by  some 
enchanter,  has  returned ;  scatters  contentment  from  her  new- 
flowing  horn.  And  mark  what  suavity  of  manners !  A  bland 
smile  distinguishes  our  Controller:  to  all  men  he  listens  with 
an  air  of  interest,  nay  of  anticipation ;  makes  their  own  wish 
clear  to  themselves,  and  grants  it;  or  at  least,  grants  con- 
ditional promise  of  it.  "  I  fear  this  is  a  matter  of  difficulty," 
said  her  Majesty. — "  Madame,"  answered  the  Controller,  "  if 
it  is  but  difficult,  it  is  done ;  if  it  is  impossible,  it  shall  be 
done  (sc  fcra)."  A  man  of  such  "facility"  withal.  To  ob- 
serve him  in  the  pleasure-vortex  of  society,  which  none  par- 
takes of  with  more  gusto,  you  might  ask,  When  does  he 
work  ?  And  yet  his  work,  as  we  see,  is  never  behindhand ; 
above  all,  the  fruit  of  his  work:  ready-money.  Truly  a  man 
of  incredible  facility ;  facile  action,  facile  elocution,  facile 
thought:  how,  in  mild  suasion,  philosophic  depth  sparkles 
up  from  him,  as  mere  wit  and  lambent  sprightliness ;  and  in 
her  Majesty's  Soirees,  with  the  weight  of  a  world  lying  on 
him,  he  is  the  delight  of  men  and  women !  By  what  magic 
does  he  accomplish  miracles?  By  the  only  true  magic,  that  of 
genius.  Men  name  him  "  the  Minister ;"  as  indeed,  when 
was  there  another  such  ?  Crooked  things  are  become  straight 
by  him,  rough  places  plain ;  and  over  the  CEil-de-Boeuf  there 
rests  an  unspeakable  sunshine. 

)  Nay,  in  seriousness,  let  no  man  say  that  Calonne  had  not 
genius :    genius  for  Persuading ;    before  all  things,  for  Bor- 

L..rowing.  With  the  skilfulcst  judicious  appliances  of  underhand 
money,  he  keeps  the  Stock-Exchanges  flourishing ;  so  that 
Loan  after  Loan  is  filled  up  as  soon  as  opened.  "  Calculators 
likely  to  know  "a  have  calculated  that  he  spent,  in  extraordi- 

a  Besenval,  iii.  216. 


6o  CARLYLE  [1783—86 

naries,  "  at  the  rate  of  one  million  daily ;  "  which  indeed  is 
some  fifty  thousand  pounds  sterling:  but  did  he  not  procure 
something  with  it;  namely  peace  and  prosperity,  for  the  time 
being  ?  Philosophedom  grumbles  and  croaks ;  buys,  as  we  t 
said,  80,000  copies  of  Necker's  new  Book:  but  NonpareiK' 
Calonne,  in  her  Majesty's  Apartment,  with  the  glittering 
retinue  of  Dukes,  Duchesses,  and  mere  happy  admiring  faces, 
can  let  Necker  and  Philosophedom  croak. 

The  misery  is,  such  a  time  cannot  last!  Squandering,  and'^  j^ 
Payment  by  Loan  is  no  way  to  choke  a  Deficit.  Neither  is  oil  J 
the  substance  for  quenching  conflagrations ; — alas  no,  only  for 
assuaging  them,  not  permanently !  To  the  Nonpareil  himself, 
who  wanted  not  insight,  it  is  clear  at  intervals,  and  dimly  cer- 
tain at  all  times,  that  his  trade  is  by  nature  temporary,  grow- 
ing daily  more  difficult;  that  changes  incalculable  lie  at  no 
great  distance.  Apart  from  financial  Deficit,  the  world  is 
wholly  in  such  a  newfangled  humor ;  all  things  working  loose 
from  their  old  fastenings,  towards  new  issues  and  combina- 
tions. There  is  not  a  dwarf  jokei,  a  cropt  Brutus'-head,  or 
Anglomaniac  horseman  rising  on  his  stirrups,  that  does  not 
betoken  change.  But  what  then  ?  The  day,  in  any  case,  passes 
pleasantly ;  for  the  morrow,  if  the  morrow  come,  there  shall 
be  counsel  too.  Once  mounted  (by  munificence,  suasion, 
magic  of  genius)  high  enough  in  favor  with  the  Qiil-de-Boeuf, 
with  the  King,  Queen,  Stock-Exchange,  and  so  far  as  possible 
with  all  men,  a  Nonpareil  Controller  may  hope  to  go  career- 
ing through  the  Inevitable,  in  some  unimagined  way,  as 
handsomely  as  another. 

At  all  events,  for  these  three  miraculous  years,  it  has  been 
expedient  heaped  on  expedient :  till  now,  with  such  cumula- 
tion and  height,  the  pile  topples  perilous.  And  here  has  this 
world's-wonder  of  a  Diamond  Necklace  brought  it  at  last 
to  the  clear  verge  of  tumbling.  Genius  in  that  direction  can 
no  more :  mounted  high  enough,  or  not  mounted,  we  must 
fare  forth.  Hardly  is  poor  Rohan,  the  Necklace-Cardinal, 
safely  bestowed  in  the  Auvergne  Mountains,  Dame  de  Lamotte 
(unsafely)  in  the  Salpetriere,  and  that  mournful  business 
hushed  up,  when  our  sanguine  Controller  once  more  aston- 
ishes the  world.  An  expedient,  unheard  of  for  these  hun- 
dred and  sixty  years,  has  been  propounded ;  and,  by  dine  of 
suasion   (for  his  light  audacity,  his  hope  and  eloquence  are 


1787]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  61 

matchless)     has     been     got     adopted — Convocation     of     the  j 
Notables. 

Let  notable  persons,  the  actual  and  virtual  rulers  of  their 
districts,  be  summoned  from  all  sides  of  France:  let  a  true 
tale,  of  his  Majesty's  patriotic  purposes  and  wretched  pecu- 
niary impossibilities,  be  suasively  told  them ;  and  then  the 
question  put :  What  are  we  to  do  ?  Surely  to  adopt  healing 
measures;  such  as  the  magic  of  genius  will  unfold;  such 
as,  once  sanctioned  by  Notables,  all  Parlements  and  all  men 
must,  with  more  or  less  reluctance,  submit  to. 


Chapter  III.— The  Notables. 

Here,  then,  is  verily  a  sign  and  wonder ;  visible  to  the 
whole  world ;  bodeful  of  much.  The  CEil-de-Bceuf  dolorously 
grumbles ;  were  we  not  well  as  we  stood — quenching  con- 
flagrations by  oil?  Constitutional  Philosophedom  starts  with 
joyful  suprise,  stares  eagerly  what  the  result  will  be.  The 
public  creditor,  the  public  debtor,  the  whole  thinking  and 
thoughtless  public  have  their  several  surprises,  joyful  or  sor- 
rowful. Count  Mirabeau,  who  has  got  his  matrimonial  and 
other  Lawsuits  huddled  up,  better  or  worse ;  and  works  now 
in  the  dimmest  element  at  Berlin ;  compiling  Prussian  Mon- 
archies, Pamphlets  On  Cagliostro;  writing,  with  pay,  but  not 
with  honorable  recognition,  innumerable  Despatches  for  his 
Government — scents  or  descries  richer  quarry  from  afar.  He,n 
like  an  eagle  or  vulture,  or  mixture  of  both,  preens  his  wings  j 
for  flight  homewards.^ 

M.  de  Calonne  has  stretched  out  an  Aaron's  Rod  over 
France ;  miraculous ;  and  is  summoning  quite  unexpected 
things.  Audacity  and  hope  alternate  in  him  with  misgivings ; 
though  the  sanguine-valiant  side  carries  it.  Anon  he  writes 
to  an  intimate  friend,  "  Je  me  fais  pitie  a  moi-mcme  (I  am 
an  object  of  pity  to  myself)  ;"  anon  invites  some  dedicating 
Poet  or  Poetaster  to  sing  "  this  Assembly  of  the  Notables, 
and  the  Revolution  that  is  preparing.''^  Preparing  indeed ; 
and  a  matter  to  be  sung — only  not  till  we  have  seen  it,  and 
what  the  issue  of  it  is.  In  deep  obscure  unrest,  all  things 
have  so  long  gone  rocking  and  swaying:   will  M.  de  Calonne, 

h  Fils  Atloptif,  Mcmoircs  de  Mirahcau.  t.  iv.  livv.  4  et  5. 
c  Biographic  Universcllc,  §  Calonne  (by  Guizot). 


62  CARLYLE  [1787 

with  this  his  alchemy  of  the  Notables,  fasten  all  together 
again,  and  get  new  revenues  ?  Or  wrench  all  asunder ;  so 
that  it  go  no  longer  rocking  and  swaying,  but  clashing  and 
colliding? 

Be  this  as  it  may,  in  the  bleak  short  days,  we  behold  men 
of  weight  and  influence  threading  the  great  vortex  of  French 
Locomotion,  each  on  his  several  line,  from  all  sides  of  France, 
towards  the  Chateau  of  Versailles :  summoned  thither  de  par 
le  roi.  There,  on  the  22d  day  of  February,  1787,  they  have 
met,  and  got  installed :  Notables  to  the  number  of  a  Hundred 
and  Thirty-seven,  as  we  count  them  name  by  name  ;rf  and  i  ^ 
Seven  Princes  of  the  Blood,  it  makes  the  round  Gross  of 
Notables.  Men  of  the  sword,  men  of  the  robe ;  Peers,  digni- 
fied Clergy,  Parlementary  Presidents ;  divided  into  Seven 
Boards  {Bureaux)  ;  under  our  Seven  Princes  of  the  Blood, 
Monsieur,  D'Artois,  Penthievre,  and  the  rest ;  among  whom 
let  not  our  new  Duke  d'Orleans  (for,  since  1785,  he  is  Chartres 
no  longer)  be  forgotten.  Never  yet  made  Admiral,  and  now 
turning  the  corner  of  his  fortieth  year,  with  spoiled  blood 
and  prospects ;  half-weary  of  a  world  which  is  more  than 
half-weary  of  him,  Monseigneur's  future  is  most  question- 
able. Not  in  illumination  and  insight,  not  even  in  conflagra-  ■ 
,  rtion ;  but,  as  was  said,  "  in  dull  smoke  and  ashes  of  outburnt 
^  (.sensualities,"  does  he  live  and  digest.  Sumptuosity  and  sordid- 
ness;  revenge,  life-weariness,  ambition,  darkness,  putrescence; 
and,  say,  in  sterling  money,  three  hundred  thousand  a  year — 
were  this  poor  Prince  once  to  burst  loose  from  his  Court- 
moorings,  to  what  regions,  with  what  phenomena,  might  he 
not  sail  and  drift !  Happily  as  yet  he  "  affects  to  hunt  daily ;" 
sits  there,  since  he  must  sit,  presiding  that  Bureau  of  his, 
with  dull  moon-visage,  dull  glassy  eyes,  as  if  it  were  a  mere 
tedium  to  him. 

We  observe  finally  that  Count  Mirabeau  has  actually  ar- 
rived. He  descends  from  Berlin,  on  the  scene  of  action  ;  glares 
into  it  with  flashing  sun-glance ;  discerns  that  it  will  do  noth- 
ing for  him.  He  had  hoped  these  Notables  might  need  a 
Secretary.  They  do  need  one;  but  have  fixed  on  Dupont 
de  Nemours;  a  man  of  smaller  fame,  but  then  of  better; — 
who  indeed,  as  his  friends  often  hear,  labors  under  this  com- 
plaint, surely  not  a  universal  one,  of  having  "  five  kings  to 
d  Lacrctclle,  iii.  286.     Montgaillard,  i.  347. 


February]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  63 

correspond  with."^  The  pen  of  a  Mirabeau  cannot  become 
an  official  one ;  nevertheless  it  remains  a  pen.  In  defect  of 
Secretaryship,  he  sets  to  denouncing  Stock-brokerage  {De-  -^ 
nonciation  de  l' Agiotage)  ;  testifying,  as  his  wont  is,  by  loud  ■, 
bruit,  that  he  is  present  and  busy ; — till,  warned  by  friend 
Talleyrand,  and  even  by  Calonne  himself  underhand,  that  "  a 
seventeenth  Lcttre-de-Cachct  may  be  launched  against  him," 
he  timefully  flits  over  the  marches. 

And  nov/,  in  stately  royal  apartments,  as  Pictures  of  that 
time  still  represent  them,  our  hundred  and  forty-four  Notables 
sit  organized ;  ready  to  hear  and  consider.  Controller  Calonne 
is  dreadfully  behindhand  with  his  speeches,  his  preparatives ; 
however,  the  man's  "  facility  of  work  "  is  known  to  us.  For 
freshness  of  style,  lucidity,  ingenuity,  largeness  of  view,  that 
opening  Harangue  of  his  was  unsurpassable: — had  not  the 
subject-matter  been  so  appalling.  A  Deficit,  concerning  which 
accounts  vary,  and  the  Controller's  own  account  is  not  unques- 
tioned ;  but  which  all  accounts  agree  in  representing  as  "  enor- 
mous." This  is  the  epitome  of  our  Controller's  difficulties; 
■and  then  his  means?  Mere  Turgotism ;  for  thither,  it  seems, 
we  must  come  at  last :  Provincial  Assemblies  ;  new  Taxation ; 
nay,  strangest  of  all,  new  Land-tax,  what  he  calls  Subvention  -d 
Tcrritoriale,  from  which  neither  Privileged  nor  Unprivileged, 
Noblemen,  Clergy,  nor  Parlementeers,  shall  be  exempt! 

Foolish  enough !  These  Privileged  Classes  have  been  used 
to  tax;  levying  toll,  tribute  and  custom,  at  all  hands,  while 
a  penny  was  left:  but  to  be  themselves  taxed?  Of  such 
Privileged  persons,  meanwhile,  do  these  Notables,  all  but  the 
merest  fraction,  consist.  Headlong  Calonne  had  given  no 
heed  to  the  "  composition,"  or  judicious  packing  of  them ; 
but  chosen  such  Notables  as  were  really  notable ;  trusting 
for  the  issue  to  off-hand  ingenuity,  good  fortune,  and  elo- 
quence that  never  yet  failed.  Headlong  Controller-General! 
Eloquence  can  do  much,  but  not  all.  Orpheus,  with  eloquence  J 
grown  rhythmic,  musical  (what  we  call  Poetry),  drew  ir(3n 
tears  from  the  cheek  of  Pluto:  but  by  what  witchery  of 
rhyme  or  prose  wilt  thou  from  the  pocket  of  Plutus  draw 
gold? 

Accordingly,  the  storm  that  now  rose  and  began  to  whistle 
round  Calonne,  first  in  these  Seven  Bureaus,  and  then  on  the 
c  Dumont,  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau  (Paris,  1832),  p.  20. 


64  CARLYLE  [1787 

outside  of  them,  awakened  by  them,  spreading  wider  and 
wider  over  all  France,  threatens  to  become  unappeasable.  A 
Deficit  so  enormous !  Mismanagement,  profusion  is  too  clear. 
Peculation  itself  is  hinted  at ;  nay,  Lafayette  and  others  go 
so  far  as  to  speak  it  out,  with  attempts  at  proof.  The  blame 
of  his  Deficit  our  brave  Calonne,  as  was  natural,  had  en- 
deavored to  shift  from  himself  on  his  predecessors ;  not  ex- 
cepting even  Necker.  But  now  Necker  vehemently  denies ;  ^ 
whereupon  an  "  angry  Correspondence,"  which  also  finds  Its  \ 
way  into  print. 

In  the  GEil-de-Boeuf,  and  her  Majesty's  private  Apart- 
ments, an  eloquent  Controller,  with  his  "  Madame,  if  it  is  but 
difficult,"  had  been  persuasive :  but,  alas,  the  cause  is  now 
carried  elsewhither.  Behold  him,  one  of  these  sad  days,  in 
Monsieur's  Bureau ;  to  which  all  the  other  Bureaus  have  sent 
deputies.  He  is  standing  at  bay :  alone ;  exposed  to  an  in- 
cessant fire  of  questions,  interpellations,  objurgations,  from 
those  "  hundred  and  thirty-seven  "  pieces  of  logic-ordnance 
— what  we  may  well  call  touches  a  feu,  fire-mouths  literally !  ■ 
Never,  according  to  Besenval,  or  hardly  ever,  had  such  display 
of  intellect,  dexterity,  coolness,  suasive  eloquence,  been  made 
by  man.  To  the  raging  play  of  so  many  fire-mouths  he  opposes 
nothing  angrier  than  light-beams,  self-possession  and  fatherly 
smiles.  With  the  imperturbablest  bland  clearness,  he,  for  five 
hours  long,  keeps  answering  the  incessant  volley  of  fiery  cap- 
tious questions,  reproachful  interpellations ;  in  words  prompt 
as  lightning,  quiet  as  light.  Nay,  the  cross-fire  too :  such  side- 
questions  and  incidental  interpellations  as,  in  the  heat  of  the 
main-battle,  he  (having  only  one  tongue)  could  not  get  an- 
swered ;  these  also  he  takes  up,  at  the  first  slake ;  answers  even 
these.o  Could  blandest  suasive  eloquence  have  saved  France, 
she  were  saved. 

Heavy-laden  Controller !  In  the  Seven  Bureaus  seems 
nothing  but  hindrance :  in  Monsieur's  Bureau,  a  Lomenie  de 
Brienne,  Archbishop  of  Toulouse,  with  an  eye  himself  to  the 
Controllership,  stirs  up  the  Clergy ;  there  are  meetings,  under- 
ground intrigues.  Neither  from  without  anywhere  comes  sign 
of  help  or  hope.  For  the  Nation  (where  Mirabeau  is  now, 
with  stentor-lungs,  "denouncing  Agio")  the  Controller  has 
hitherto  done  nothing,  or  less.     For  Philosophcdom  he  has 

o  Besenval,  iii.  196. 


March- April]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  65 

done  as  good  as  nothing — sent  out  some  scientific  Laperouse, 
or  the  hke :  and  is  he  not  in  "  angry  correspondence  "  with 
its  Neckcr  ?  The  very  CEil-de-Boeuf  looks  questionable ;  a 
falling  Controller  has  no  friends.  Solid  M.  de  Vergennes,  who 
with  his  phlegmatic  judicious  punctuality  might  have  kept 
down  many  things,  died  the  very  week  before  these  sorrow- 
ful Notables  met.  And  now  a  Seal-keeper,  Gardc-dcs-Sccaux 
Miromenil  is  thought  to  be  playing  the  traitor:  spinning  plots 
for  Lomenie-Brienne !  Queen's-Reader  Abbe  de  Vermond, 
unloved  individual,  was  Brienne's  creature,  the  work  of  his 
hands  from  the  first :  it  may  be  feared  the  backstairs  passage 
is  open,  the  ground  getting  mined  under  our  feet.  Treacherous 
Garde-dcs-Sceaux  Miromenil,  at  least,  should  be  dismissed ; 
Lamoignon,  the  eloquent  Notable,  a  stanch  man,  with  con- 
nections, and  even  ideas,  Parlement-Prcsident  yet  intent  on 
reforming  Parlements,  were  not  he  the  right  Keeper?  So, 
for  one,  thinks  busy  Besenval;  and,  at  dinner-table,  rounds 
the  same  into  the  Controller's  ear — who  always,  in  the  inter- 
vals of  landlord-duties,  listens  to  him  as  with  charmed  look, 
but  answers  nothing  positive.^ 

Alas,  what  to  answer  ?  The  force  of  private  intrigue,  and 
then  also  the  force  of  public  opinion,  grows  so  dangerous,  con- 
fused !  Philosophedom  sneers  aloud,  as  if  its  Necker  already 
triumphed.  The  gaping  populace  gapes  over  Wood-cuts  or 
Copper-cuts ;  where,  for  example,  a  Rustic  is  represented 
convoking  the  Poultry  of  his  barnyard,  with  this  opening  ad- 
dress :  "  Dear  animals,  I  have  assembled  you  to  advise  me 
what  sauce  I  shall  dress  you  with ;"  to  which  a  Cock  respond- 
ing, "  We  don't  want  to  be  eaten,"  is  checked  by  "  You  wander 
from  the  point  (Voits  vous  ccartcs  de  la  question). ''c  Laughter 
and  logic,  ballad-singer,  pamphleteer ;  epigram  and  carica- 
ture:  what  wind  of  public  opinion  is  this — as  if  the  Cave  of 
the  Winds  were  bursting  loose!  At  nightfall,  President  La- 
moignon steals  over  to  the  Controller's;  finds  him  "walking 
with  large  strides  in  his  chamber,  like  one  out  of  himself. "<^ 
With  rapid  confused  speech  the  Controller  begs  M.  de  La- 
moignon to  give  him  "  an  advice."  Lamoignon  candidly  an- 
swers that,  except  in  regard  to  his  own  anticipated  Keeper- 

h  lb.  iii.  203. 

c  Republished  in  the  Miisee  de  la  Caricature  (Paris,  1834). 
d  Besenval,  iii.  209. 
Vol.  I. -5 


66  CARLYLE  [1787 

ship,  unless  that  would  prove  remedial,  he  really  cannot  take 
upon  him  to  advise. 

"  On  the  Monday  after  Easter,"  the  9th  of  April  1787,  a 
date  one  rejoices  to  verify,  for  nothing  can  excel  the  indolent 
falsehood  of  these  Histoires  and  Mcmoires — "  On  the  Alon- 
day  after  Easter,  as  I,  Besenval,  was  riding  towards  Romain- 
ville  to  the  Marechal  de  Segur's,  I  met  a  friend  on  the  Boule- 
vards, who  told  me  that  M.  de  Calonne  was  out.  A  little 
further  on  came  M.  the  Duke  d'Orleans,  dashing  towards  me, 
head  to  the  wind"  (trotting  a  I'Anglaisc),  "and  confirmed 
the  news."^  It  is  true  news.  Treacherous  Garde-des-Sceaux 
Miromenil  is  gone,  and  Lamoignon  is  appointed  in  his  room:, 
but  appointed  for  his  own  profit  only,  not  for  the  Controller's : 
"  next  day  "  the  Controller  also  has  had  to  move.  A  little 
longer  he  may  linger  near ;  be  seen  among  the  money-changers, 
and  even  ''  working  in  the  Controller's  office,"  where  much 
lies  unfinished :  but  neither  will  that  hold.  Too  strong  blows 
and  beats  this  tempest  of  public  opinion,  of  private  intrigue, 
as  from  the  Cave  of  all  the  Winds;  and  blows  him  (higher 
Authority  giving  sign)  out  of  Paris  and  France — over  the 
horizon,  into  Invisibility,  or  outer  Darkness. 

Such  destiny  the  magic  of  genius  could  not  forever  avert. 
Ungrateful  Qilil-de-Bceuf !  did  he  not  miraculously  rain  gold 
manna  on  you ;  so  that,  as  a  Courtier  said,  "  All  the  world 
held  out  its  hand,  and  I  held  out  my  hat " — for  a  time?  Him- 
self is  poor ;  penniless,  had  not  a  "  Financier's  widow  in 
Lorraine  "  ofifered  him,  though  he  was  turned  of  fifty,  her 
hand  and  the  rich  purse  it  held.  Dim  henceforth  shall  be  his 
activity,  though  unwearied :  Letters  to  the  King,  Appeals, 
Prognostications;  Pamphlets  (from  London),  written  with  the 
old  suasive  facility ;  which  however  do  not  persuade.  Luckily 
his  widow's  purse  fails  not.  Once,  in  a  year  or  two,  some 
shadow  of  him  shall  be  seen  hovering  on  the  Northern  Border, 
seeking  election  as  National  Deputy ;  but  be  sternly  beckoned 
away.  Dimmer  then,  far-borne  over  utmost  European  lands, 
in  uncertain  twilight  of  diplomacy,  he  shall  hover,  intriguing 
for  "  Exiled  Princes,"  and  have  adventures ;  be  overset  into 
the  Rhine-stream  and  half-drowned,  nevertheless  save  his 
papers  dry.  Unwearied,  but  in  vain!  In  France  he  works 
miracles  no  more;   shall  hardly  return  thither  to  find  a  grave. 

e  lb.  iii.  211. 


April-May]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  67 

Farewell,  thou  facile  sanguine  Controller-General,  with  thy 
light  rash  hand,  thy  suasive  mouth  of  gold :  worse  men  there 
have  been,  and  better;  but  to  thee  also  was  allotted  a  task 
— of  raising  the  wind,  and  the  winds ;  and  thou  hast  done  it. 
But  now,  while  Ex-Controller  Calonne  flies  storm-driven 
/  over  the  horizon,  in  this  singular  way,  what  has  become  of  the 
^  Controllership  ?  It  hangs  vacant,  one  may  say ;  extinct,  like 
the  Moon  in  her  vacant  interlunar  cave.  Two  preliminary 
shadows,  poor  M.  Fourqueux,  poor  M.  Villedeuil,  do  hold, 
in  quick  succession,  some  simulacrum  of  itf — as  the  new  Moon 
will  sometimes  shine  out  with  a  dim  preliminary  old  one  in 
her  arms.  Be  patient,  ye  Notables !  An  actual  new  Controller 
is  certain,  and  even  ready ;  were  the  indispensable  manoeuvres 
but  gone  through.  Long-headed  Lamoignon,  with  Home- 
Secretary  Breteuil,  and  Foreign  Secretary  Montmorin  have 
exchanged  looks ;  let  these  three  once  meet  and  speak.  Who 
is  it  that  is  strong  in  the  Queen's  favor,  and  the  Abbe  de  Ver- 
mond's?  That  is  a  man  of  great  capacity?  Or  at  least  that 
has  struggled,  these  fifty  years,  to  have  it  thought  great ;  now, 
in  the  Clergy's  name,  demanding  to  have  Protestant  death- 
penalties  "  put  in  execution ;"  now  flaunting  it  in  the  QEil- 
de-Boeuf,  as  the  gayest  man-pleaser  and  woman-pleaser ;  glean- 
ing even  a  good  word  from  Philosophedom  and  your  Vol- 
taires  and  D'Alemberts?  That  has  a  party  ready-made  for 
him  in  the  Notables? — Lomenie  de  Brienne,  Archbishop  of 
Toulouse !  answer  all  the  three,  with  the  clearest  instantaneous- 
concord  ;  and  rush  off  to  propose  him  to  the  King ;  "  in  such 
haste,"  says  Besenval,  "  that  M.  de  Lamoignon  had  to  bor- 
row a  siniarre,"  seemingly  some  kind  of  cloth  apparatus  neces- 
sary for  that.g 

Lomenie-Brienne,  who  had  all  his  life  "  felt  a  kind  of  pre- 
destination for  the  highest  ofifices,"  has  now  therefore  obtained 

..-them.      He   presides   over  the   Finances;    he   shall    have   the 
title  of  Prime  Minister  itself,  and  the  effort  of  his  long  life  be 

,  realized.  Unhappy  only  that  it  took  such  talent  and  industry 
to  gain  the  place ;  that  to  qualify  for  it  hardly  any  talent 
or  industry  was  left  disposable !  Looking  now  into  his  inner 
man,  what  qualification  he  may  have,  Lomenie  beholds,  not 
without  astonishment,  next  to  nothing  but  vacuity  and  pos- 
sibility. Principles  or  methods,  acqm'rcment  outward  or  in- 
/  Besenval,  iii.  225.  g  lb.  iii.  224. 


68  CARLYLE  [1787 

ward  (for  his  very  body  is  wasted,  by  hard  tear  and  wear) 
he  finds  none ;  not  so  much  as  a  plan,  even  an  unwise  one. 
Lucky,  in  these  circumstances,  that  Calonne  has  had  a  plan ! 
Calonne's  plan  was  gathered  from  Turgot's  and  Necker's  by 
compilation ;  shall  become  Lomenie's  by  adoption.  Not  in 
vain  has  Lomenie  studied  the  working  of  the  British  Con- 
stitution ;  for  he  professes  to  have  some  Anglomania,  of  a 
sort.  Why,  in  that  free  country,  does  one  Minister,  driven 
out  by  Parliament,  vanish  from  his  King's  presence,  and  an- 
other enter,  borne  in  by  Parliament  ?^f  Surely  not  for  mere 
change  (which  is  ever  wasteful)  ;  but  that  all  men  may  have 
share  of  what  is  going;  and  so  the  strife  of  Freedom  in- 
definitely prolong  itself,  and  no  harm  be  done. 

The  Notables,  mollified  by  Easter  festivities,  by  the  sacri- 
fice of  Calonne,  are  not  in  the  worst  humor.  Already  his 
Majesty,  while  the  "  interlunar  shadows  "  were  in  office,  had 
held  session  of  Notables ;  and  from  his  throne  delivered 
promissory  conciliatory  eloquence :  "  the  Queen  stood  wait- 
ing at  a  window,  till  his  carriage  came  back ;  and  Monsieur 
from  afar  clapped  hands  to  her,"  in  sign  that  all  was  weW.i 
It  has  had  the  best  effect ;  if  such  do  but  last.  Leading 
Notables  meanwhile  can  be  "  caressed ;"  Brienne's  new  gloss, 
Lamoignon's  long  head  will  profit  somewhat;  conciliatory 
eloquence  shall  not  be  wanting.  On  the  whole,  however,  is 
it  not  undeniable  that  this  of  ousting  Calonne  and  adopting 
the  plans  of  Calonne,  is  a  measure  which,  to  produce  its  best 
effect,  should  be  looked  at  from  a  certain  distance,  cursorily ; 
not  dwelt  on  with  minute  near  scrutiny?  In  a  word,  that 
no  service  the  Notables  could  now  do  were  so  obliging  as,  in 
some  handsome  manner,  to — take  themselves  away  ?  Their  , 
"  Six  Propositions  "  about  Provisional  Assemblies,  suppression  W 
of  Corvccs  and  suchlike,  can  be  accepted  without  criticism.  / 
The  Subvention  or  Land-tax,  and  much  else,  one  must  glide 
hastily  over ;  safe  nowhere  but  in  flourishes  of  conciliatory 
eloquence.  Till  at  length,  on  this  25th  of  May,  year  1787,  in 
solemn  final  session,  there  bursts  forth  what  we  can  call  an 
explosion  of  eloquence ;  King,  Lomenie,  Lamoignon  and 
retinue  taking  up  the  successive  strain ;  in  harangues  to  the 
number  of  ten,  besides  his  Majesty's,  which  last  the  livelong 

h  Montgaillard,  Ilistoire  de  France,  i.  410-17. 
i  Bescnval,  iii.  220. 


April-May]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  69 

clay ; — whereby,  as  in  a  kind  of  choral  anthem,  or  bravura  peal, 
of  thanks,  praises,  promises,  the  Notables  are,  so  to  speak, 
organed  out,  and  dismissed  to  their  respective  places  of  abode. 
They  had  sat,  and  talked,  some  nine  weeks :  they  were  the 
'Y^l^  first  Notables  since  Richelieu's,  in  the  year  1626. 

By  some  Historians,  sitting  much  at  their  ease,  in  the  safe 
distance,  Lomenie  has  been  blamed  for  this  dismissal  of  his 
Notables :  nevertheless  it  was  clearly  time.  There  are  things, 
as  we  said,  which  should  not  be  dwelt  on  with  minute  close 
scrutiny :  over  hot  coals  you  cannot  glide  too  fast.  In  these 
Seven  Bureaus,  where  no  work  could  be  done,  unless  talk 
were  work,  the  questionablest  matters  were  coming  up.  La- 
fayette, for  example,  in  Monseigneur  d'Artois'  Bureau,  took 
upon  him  to  set  forth  more  than  one  deprecatory  oration  about 
Lcttres-de-Cachet,  Liberty  of  the  Subject,  Agio,  and  such- 
like ;  which  Monseigneur  endeavoring  to  repress,  was  an- 
swered that  a  Notable  being  summoned  to  speak  his  opinion 
must  speak  it./ 

Thus  too  his  Grace  the  Archbishop  of  Aix  perorating  once, 
with  a  plaintive  pulpit-tone,  in  these  words :  "  Tithe,  that  free- 
will offering  of  the  piety  of  Christians  " — "  Tithe,"  inter- 
rupted Duke  la  Rochefoucault,  with  the  cold  business-manner 
he  has  learned  from  the  English,  "  that  free-will  offering  of 
the  piety  of  Christians ;  on  which  there  are  now  forty-thou- 
sand lawsuits  in  this  realm. "/>;  Nay,  Lafayette,  bound  to-" 
speak  his  opinion,  went  the  length,  one  day,  of  proposing  to 
convoke  a  "  National  Assembly."  "  You  demand  States- 
General  ?"  asked  Monseigneur  with  an  air  of  minatory  sur- 
prise.— "  Yes,  Monseigneur ;  and  even  better  than  that." — 
"  Write  it,"  said  Monseigneur  to  the  Clerks.' — Written  accord- 
ingly it  is ;   and  what  is  more,  will  be  acted  by  and  by. 

j  Montgaillard,  i.  360. 

k  Duinont,  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabcau.  p.  21. 

/  Toulongeon,  Histoire  de  France  dcpuis  la  Revolution  de  1789  (Paris, 
1803),  i.  app.  4. 


70  CARLYLE  [1787 


Chapter  IV. — Lomenie's  Edicts. 

Thus,  then,  have  the  Notables  returned  home ;  carrying, 
to  all  quarters  of  France,  such  notions  of  deficit,  decrepitude, 
distraction ;  and  that  States-General  will  cure  it,  or  will  not 
cure  it  but  kill  it.  Each  Notable,  we  may  fancy,  is  as  a 
funereal  torch ;  disclosing  hideous  abysses,  better  left  hid ! 
The  unquietest  humor  possesses  all  men ;  ferments,  seeks 
issue,  in  pamphleteering,  caricaturing,  projecting,  declaiming; 
vain  jangling  of  thought,  word  and  deed. 

It  is  Spiritual  Bankruptcy,  long  tolerated ;  verging  now 
towards  Economical  Bankruptcy,  and  become  intolerable. 
For  from  the  lowest  dumb  rank,  the  inevitable  misery,  as 
was  predicted,  has  spread  upwards.  In  every  man  is  some 
obscure  feeling  that  his  position,  oppressive  or  else  oppressed, 
is  a  false  one :  all  men,  in  one  or  the  other  acrid  dialect,  as 
assaulters  or  as  defenders,  must  give  vent  to  the  unrest  that 
is  in  them.  Of  such  stufif  national  well-being,  and  the  glory 
of  rulers,  is  not  made.  O  Lomenie,  what  a  wild-heaving, 
waste-looking,  hungry  and  angry  world  hast  thou,  after  life- 
long effort,  got  promoted  to  take  charge  of ! 

Lomenie's  first  Edicts  are  mere  soothing  ones :  Creation  of 
Provincial  Assemblies,  "  for  apportioning  the  imposts,"  when 
we  get  any ;  suppression  of  Corvees  or  statute-labor ;  allevia- 
tion of  Gahclle.  Soothing  measures,  recommended  by  the 
Notables ;  long  clamored  for  by  all  liberal  men.  Oil  cast  on 
the  waters  has  been  known  to  produce  a  good  efifect.  Before 
venturing  with  great  essential  measures.  Lomenie  will  sec  this 
singular  "  swell  of  the  public  mind  "  abate  somewhat. 

Most  proper,  surely.  But  what  if  it  were  not  a  swell  of  the 
abating  kind?  There  are  swells  that  come  of  upper  tempest 
and  wind-gust.  But  again  there  are  swells  that  come  of  sub- 
terranean pent  wind,  some  say ;  and  even  of  inward  decom- 
position, of  decay  that  has  become  self-combustion: — as  when, 
according  to  Ncptuno-Plutonic  Geology,  the  World  is  all  de- 
cayed down  into  due  attritus  of  this  sort ;  and  shall  now 
be  exploded,  and  new-made !  These  latter  abate  not  by  oil. — 
The  fool  says  in  his  heart.  How  shall  not  to-morrow  be  as 
yesterday ;  as  all  days — which  were  once  to-morrows  ?  The 
wise  man,  looking  on  this   France,  moral,  intellectual,  eco- 


May-June]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  71 

nomical,  sees.  "  in  short,  all  the  symptoms  he  has  ever  meti 
with  in  history," — Mnabatable  by  soothing  Edicts.  "-' 

Meanwhile,  abate  or  not,  cash  must  be  had ;  and  for  that, 
quite  another  sort  of  Edicts,  namely  "  bursal  "  or  fiscal  ones. 
How  easy  were  fiscal  Edicts,  did  you  know  for  certain  that 
the  Parlement  of  Paris  would  what  they  call  "  register  "  them ! 
such  right  of  registering,  properly  of  mere  writing  down, 
the  Parlement  has  got  by  old  wont ;  and,  though  but  a  Law- 
Court,  can  remonstrate,  and  higgle  considerably  about  the 
same.  Hence  many  quarrels ;  desperate  Maupeou  devices, 
and  victory  and  defeat ; — a  quarrel  now  near  forty  years  long. 
Hence  fiscal  Edicts,  which  otherwise  were  easy  enough,  be- 
come such  problems.  For  example,  is  there  not  Calonne's 
Subvention  Territoriale,  universal,  unexempting  Land-tax ; 
the  sheet  anchor  of  Finance?  Or,  to  show,  so  far  as  pos- 
sible, that  one  is  not  without  original  finance  talent,  Lomenie 
himself  can  devise  an  Edit  du  Timbre  or  Stamp-tax — bor- 
rowed also,  it  is  true ;  but  then  from  America :  may  it  prove 
luckier  in  France  than  there ! 

France  has  her  resources :  nevertheless,  it  cannot  be  denied, 
the  aspect  of  that  Parlement  is  questionable.  Already  among 
the  Notables,  in  that  final  symphony  of  dismissal,  the  Paris 
President  had  an  ominous  tone.  Adrien  Duport,  quitting  mag- 
netic sleep,  in  this  agitation  of  the  world,  threatens  to  rouse 
himself  into  preternatural  wakefulness.  Shallower  but  also 
louder,  there  is  magnetic  D'Espremenil,  with  his  tropical  heat 
(he  was  born  at  Madras)  ;  with  his  dusky  confused  violence; 
holding  of  Illumination,  Animal  Magnetism,  Public  Opinion, 
AdamWeisshaupt,  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton,  and  all  manner 
of  confused  violent  things :  of  whom  can  come  no  good.  The 
very  Peerage  is  infected  with  the  leaven.  Our  Peers  have, 
in  too  many  cases,  laid  aside  their  frogs,  laces,  bagwigs ;  and 
go  about  in  English  costume,  or  ride  rising  in  their  stirrups 
— in  the  most  headlong  manner ;  nothing  but  insubordina- 
tion, eleutheromania,  confused  unlimited  opposition  in  their 
heads.  Questionable:  not  to  be  ventured  upon,  if  wc  had 
a  Fortunatus'  Purse !  But  Lomenie  has  waited  all  June,  cast- 
ing on  the  waters  what  oil  he  had ;  and  now,  betide  as  it  may, 
the  two  Finance  Edicts  must  out.  On  the  6th  of  July,  he  - 
forwards  his  proposed  Stamp-tax  and  Land-tax  to  the  Parle- 
ment of  Paris;   and,  as  if  putting  his  own  leg  foremost,  not 


72  CARLYLE  [1787 

his   borrowed   Calonne's   leg,   places   the    Stamp-tax   first   in 
order. 

Alas,  the  Parlement  will  not  register:  the  Parlement  de- 
mands instead  a  "  state  of  the  expenditure,"  a  "  state  of  the 
contemplated  reductions ;"  "  states "  enough ;  which  his 
Majesty  must  decline  to  furnish !  Discussions  arise ;  patriotic 
eloquence:  the  Peers  are  summoned.  Does  the  Nemean  Lion 
begin  to  bristle  ?  Here  surely  is  a  duel,  which  France  and  the 
Universe  may  look  upon :  with  prayers ;  at  lowest,  with  curi- 
osity and  bets.  Paris  stirs  with  new  animation.  The  outer 
courts  of  the  Palais  de  Justice  roll  with  unusual  crowds, 
coming  and  going;  their  huge  outer  hum  mingles  with  the 
clang  of  patriotic  eloquence  within,  and  gives  vigor  to  it. 
Poor  Lomenie  gazes  from  the  distance,  little  comforted ;  has  his 
invisible  emissaries  flying  to  and  fro,  assiduous,  without  result. 

So  pass  the  sultry  dog-days,  in  the  most  electric  manner ; 
and  the  whole  month  of  July.  And  still,  in  the  Sanctuary  of 
Justice,  sounds  nothing  but  Harmodius-Aristogiton  eloquence, 
environed  with  the  hum  of  crowding  Paris ;  and  no  registering 
accomplished,  and  no  "states"  furnished.  "States?"  said  a 
lively  Parlementeer :  "  Messieurs,  the  states  that  should  be 
furnished  us,  in  my  opinion  are  the  States-General"  OnJ  ^ 
which  timely  joke  there  follow  cachinnatory  buzzes  of  approval. 
What  a  word  to  be  spoken  in  the  Palais  de  Justice !  Old 
D'Ormesson  (the  Ex-Controller's  uncle)  shakes  his  judicious 
head;  far  enough  from  laughing.  But  the  outer  courts,  and 
Paris  and  France,  catch  the  glad  sound,  and  repeat  it ;  shall 
repeat  it,  and  re-echo  and  reverberate  it,  till  it  grow  a  deafening 
peal.     Clearly  enough  here  is  no  registering  to  be  thought  of. 

The  pious  Proverb  says,  "There  are  remedies  for  all  things 
but  death."  When  a  Parlement  refuses  registering,  the 
remedy,  by  long  practice,  has  become  familiar  to  the  simplest :  a 
Bed  of  Justice.  One  complete  month  this  Parlement  has  spent 
in  mere  idle  jargoning,  and  sound  and  hiry ;  the  Timbre  Edict 
not  registered,  or  like  to  be ;  the  Subvention  not  yet  so  much  as 
spoken  of.  On  the  6th  of  August  let  the  whole  refractory 
Body  roll  out,  in  wheeled  vehicles,  as  far  as  the  King's  Chateau 
of  Versailles ;  there  shall  the  King,  holding  his  Bed  of  Justice, 
order  them,  by  his  own  royal  lips,  to  register.  They  may  re- 
monstrate, in  an  under  tone ;  but  they  must  obey,  lest  a  worst 
unknown  thing  befall  them. 


July]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  73 

It  is  done :  the  Parlement  has  rolled  out,  on  royal  summons ; 
has  heard  the  express  royal  order  to  register.  Whereupon  it  has 
rolled  back  again,  amid  the  hushed  expectancy  of  men.  And 
now,  behold,  on  the  morrow,  this  Parlement,  seated  once  more 
in  its  own  Palais,  with  "  crowds  inundating  the  outer  courts," 
not  only  does  not  register,  but  (O  portent!)  declares  all  that 
was  done  on  the  prior  day  to  be  null,  and  the  Bed  of  Justice  as 
good  as  a  futility !  In  the  history  of  France  here  verily  is  a  new  -^ 
feature.  Nay  better  still,  our  heroic  Parlement,  getting  sud- 
denly enlightened  on  several  things,  declares  that,  for  its  part, 
it  is  incompetent  to  register  Tax-edicts  at  all, — having  done  it 
by  mistake,  during  these  late  centuries ;  that  for  such  act  one 
authority  only  is  competent:  the  assembled  Three  Estates  of 
the  Realm ! 

To  such  length  can  the  universal  spirit  of  a  Nation  penetrate 
the  most  isolated  Body-corporate:  say  rather,  with  such 
weapons,  homicidal,  in  exasperated  political  duel,  will  Bodies- 
corporate  fight !  But,  in  any  case,  is  not  this  the  real  death- 
grapple  of  war  and  internecine  duel,  Greek  meeting  Greek, 
whereon  men,  had  they  even  no  interest  in  it,  might  look  with 
interest  unspeakable  ?  Crowds,  as  was  said,  inundate  the  outer 
courts :  inundation  of  young  eleutheromaniac  Noblemen  in 
English  costume,  uttering  audacious  speeches ;  of  Procureurs, 
Basoche-Clerks,  who  are  idle  in  these  days ;  of  Loungers,  News- 
mongers and  other  nondescript  classes, — rolls  tumultuous  there. 
"From  three  to  four  thousand  persons,"  waiting  eagerly  to  hear 
•X  the  Arrctcs  (Resolutions)  you  arrive  at  within;  applauding 
with  bravos,  with  the  clapping  of  from  six  to  eight  thousand 
hands !  Sweet  also  is  the  need  of  patriotic  eloquence,  when 
your  D'Espremenil,  your  Freteau,  or  Sabaticr,  issuing  from  his 
Demosthenic  Olympus,  the  thunder  being  hushed  for  the  day, 
is  welcomed,  in  the  outer  courts,  with  a  shout  from  four  thou- 
sand throats ;  is  borne  home  shoulder-high  "with  benedictions," 
and  strikes  the  stars  with  his  sublime  head. 


74  CARLYLE  [1787 


Chapter  V. — Lomenie's  Thunderbolts. 

Arise,  Lomenie-Brienne :  here  is  no  case  for  "  Letters  of 
Jussion ;  "  for  faltering  or  compromise.  Thou  seest  the  whole 
loose  fluent  population  of  Paris  (whatsoever  is  not  solid,  and 
fixed  to  work)  inundating  these  outer  courts,  like  a  loud  de- 
structive deluge ;  the  very  Basoche  of  Lawyers'  Clerks  talks 
sedition.  The  lower  classes,  in  this  duel  of  Authority  with 
Authority,  Greek  throttling  Greek,  have  ceased  to  respect  the 
City- Watch :  Police-satellites  are  marked  on  the  back  with 
chalk  (the  M  signifies  mouchard,  spy)  ;  they  are  hustled,  hunted 
like  ferc€  naturco.  Subordinate  rural  Tribunals  send  messen- 
gers of  congratulation,  of  adherence.  Their  Fountain  of 
Justice  is  becoming  a  Fountain  of  Revolt.  The  Provincial 
Parlements  look  on,  with  intent  eye,  with  breathless  wishes, 
while  their  elder  sister  of  Paris  does  battle:  the  whole  Twelve 
are  of  one  blood  and  temper ;  the  victory  of  one  is  that  of  all. 

Ever  worse  it  grows :  on  the  loth  of  August,  there  is 
"Plainte"  emitted  touching  the  "prodigalities  of  Calonne," 
and  permission  to  "  proceed  "  against  him.  No  registering,  but 
instead  of  it,  denouncing :  of  dilapidation,  peculation ;  and  ever 
the  burden  of  the  song,  States-General !  Have  the  royal 
armories  no  thunderbolt,  that  thou  couldst,  O  Lomenie,  with 
red  right-hand,  launch  it  among  these  Demosthenic  theatrical 
thunder-barrels,  mere  resin  and  noise  for  most  part ; — and 
shatter,  and  smite  them  silent?  On  the  night  of  the  14th  of 
August,  LomeYiie  launches  his  thunderbolt,  or  handful  of  them. 
Letters  named  of  the  Seal  (dc  Cachet),  as  many  as  needful, 
some  sixscore  and  odd,  are  delivered  overnight.  And  so,  next 
day  betimes,  the  whole  Parlement,  once  more  set  on  wheels,  is 
rolling  incessantly  towards  Troyes  in  Champagne ;  "  escorted," 
says  History,  "  with  the  blessings  of  all  people ;  "  the  very  inn- 
keepers and  postilions  looking  gratuitously  reverent.a  This 
is  the  15th  of  August,  1787. 

What  will  not  people  bless ;  in  their  extreme  need !  Seldom 
had  the  Parlement  of  Paris  deserved  much  blessing,  or  received 
much.  An  isolated  Body-corporate,  which,  out  of  old  con- 
fusions (while  the  Sceptre  of  the  Sword  was  confusedly  strug- 
gling to  become  a  Sceptre  of  the  Pen),  had  got  itself  together, 

a  A.  Lameth,  Histoirc  dc  I'Assemblee  Constituante  (Int.  73), 


August]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  75 

better  and  worse,  as  Bodies-corporate  do,  to  satisfy  some  dim 
desire  of  the  world,  and  many  clear  desires  of  individuals;  and 
so  had  grown,  in  the  course  of  centuries,  on  concession,  on  ac- 
quirement and  usurpation,  to  be  what  we  see  it :  a  prosperous  } 
Social  Anomaly,  deciding  Lawsuits,  sanctioning  or  rejecting 
Laws ;  and  withal  disposing  of  its  places  and  offices  by  sale  for 
ready-money, — which  method  sleek  President  Renault,  after  , 
meditation,  will  demonstrate  to  be  the  indififerent-best.'' 

In  such  a  Body,  existing  by  purchase  for  ready-money,  there 
could  not  be  excess  of  public  spirit ;  there  might  well  be  excess 
of  eagerness  to  divide  the  public  spoil.  Men  in  helmets  have 
divided  that,  with  swords ;  men  in  wigs,  with  quill  and  inkhorn, 
do  divide  it :  and  even  more  hatefully  these  latter,  if  more  peace- 
ably ;  for  the  wig-method  it  at  once  irresistibler  and  baser.  By 
long  experience,  says  Besenval,  it  has  been  found  useless  to 
sue  a  Parlementeer  at  law  ;  no  Officer  of  Justice  will  serve  a  writ 
on  one:  his  wig  and  gown  are  his  Vulcan's-panoply,  his  en- 
chanted cloak-of-darkness. 

The  Parlement  of  Paris  may  count  itself  an  unloved  body ; 
mean,  not  magnanimous,  on  the  political  side.  Were  the  King 
weak,  always  (as  now)  has  his  Parlement  barked,  cur-like  at 
his  heels ;  with  what  popular  cry  there  might  be.  Were  he 
strong,  it  barked  before  his  face ;  hunting  for  him  as  his  alert 
beagle.  An  unjust  Body ;  where  foul  influences  have  more  than 
once  worked  shameful  perversion  of  judgment.  Does  not,  in 
these  very  days,  the  blood  of  murdered  Lally  cry  aloud  for 
vengeance?  Baited,  circumvented,  driven  mad  like  the  snared 
lion,  Valor  had  to  sink  extinguished  under  vindictive  Chicane. 
Behold  him,  that  hapless  Lally,  his  wild  dark  soul  looking 
through  his  wild  dark  face;  trailed  on  the  ignominious  death- 
hurdle  ;  the  voice  of  his  despair  choked  by  a  wooden  gag !  The 
wild  fire-soul  that  has  known  only  peril  and  toil ;  and,  for  three- 
score years,  has  buffeted  against  Fate's  obstruction  and  men's 
perfidy,  like  genius  and  courage  amid  poltroonery,  dishonesty 
and  commonplace;  faithfully  enduring  and  endeavoring, — O 
Parlement  of  Paris,  dost  thou  reward  it  with  a  gibbet  and  a 
gag?f  The  dying  Lally  bequeathed  his  memory  to  his  boy;  a  j 
young  Lally  has  arisen,  demanding  redress  in  the  name  of  God 
and  man.     The  Parlement  of  Paris  does  its  utmost  to  defend 

b  AhrcRc  Chronologiquc,  p.  075- 

cgth  May  1766:  Biographic  Univcrscllc,  §  Lally. 


76  CARLYLE  [1787 

the  indefensible,  abominable ;  nay,  what  is  singular,  dusky- 
glowing  Aristogiton  d'Espremenil  is  the  man  chosen  to  be  its 
spokesman  in  that. 

Such  Social  Anomaly  is  it  that  France  now  blesses.  An  un- 
clean Social  Anomaly ;  but  in  duel  against  another  worse !  The 
exiled  Parlement  is  felt  to  have  "  covered  itself  with  glory." 
There  are  quarrels  in  which  even  Satan,  bringing  help,  were  not 
unwelcome ;  even  Satan,  fighting  stiffly,  might  cover  himself 
with  glory, — of  a  temporary  sort. 

But  what  a  stir  in  the  outer  courts  of  the  Palais,  when  Paris 
finds  its  Parlement  trundled  off  to  Troyes  in  Champagne ;  and 
nothing  left  but  a  few  mute  Keepers  of  Records ;  the  Demos- 
thenic thunder  become  extinct,  the  martyrs  of  liberty  clean 
gone !  Confused  wail  and  menace  rises  from  the  four  thousand 
throats  of  Procureurs,  Basoche-Clerks,  Nondescripts,  and 
Anglomaniac  Noblesse ;  ever  new  idlers  crowd  to  see  and  hear ; 
Rascality,  with  increasing  numbers  and  vigor,  hunts  moiichards.  \i 
Loud  whirlpool  rolls  through  these  spaces ;  the  rest  of  the  City, 
fixed  to  its  work,  cannot  yet  go  rolling.  Audacious  placards 
are  legible ;  in  and  about  the  Palais,  the  speeches  are  as  good  as  - 
seditious.  Surely  the  temper  of  Paris  is  much  changed.  On 
the  third  day  of  this  business  (i8th  of  August),  Monsieur  and 
Monseigneur  d'Artois,  coming  in  state-carriages,  according  to 
use  and  wont,  to  have  these  late  obnoxious  Arrctcs  and  Protests 
"  expunged "  from  the  Records,  are  received  in  the  most 
marked  manner.  Monsieur,  who  is  thought  to  be  in  opposition, 
is  met  with  vivats  and  stewed  flowers:  Monseigneur,  on  the 
other  hand,  with  silence;  with  murmurs,  which  rise  to  hisses 
and  groans :  nay  an  irreverent  Rascality  presses  towards  him  in 
floods,  with  such  hissing  vehemence,  that  the  Captain  of  the 
Guards  has  to  give  order,  "  Haut  les  amies  (Handle  arms)  !  " — 
at  which  thunder-word,  indeed,  and  the  flash  of  the  clear  iron, 
the  Rascal-flood  recoils,  through  all  avenues,  fast  enough.^ 
New  features  these.  Indeed,  as  good  M.  de  Malesherbes  perti- 
nently remarks,  "  it  is  a  quite  new  kind  of  contest  this  with  the 
Parlement:"  no  transitory  sputter,  as  from  collision  of  hard 
bodies ;  but  more  like  "  the  first  sparks  of  what,  if  not  quenched, 
may  become  a  great  conflagration."^ 

This  good  Malesherbes  sees  himself  now  again  in  the  King's 
Council,  after  an  absence  of  ten  years:  Lomenie  would  profit 

d  Montgaillard,  i.  369.    Bcsenval,  &c.  c  Montgaillard,  i.  2,7^. 


Aug.-Sept]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  77 

if  not  by  the  faculties  of  the  man,  yet  by  the  name  he  has.  As 
for  the  man's  opinion,  it  is  not  hstened  to ; — wherefore  he  will 
soon  withdraw,  a  second  time ;  back  to  his  books  and  his  trees. 
-  In  such  King's  Council  what  can  a  good  man  profit  ?  Turgot 
tries  it  not  a  second  time :  Turgot  has  quitted  France  and  this 
Earth,  some  years  ago ;  and  now  cares  for  none  of  these  things. 
Singular  enough:  Turgot,  this  same  Lomenie,  and  the  Abbe 
Morellet  were  once  a  trio  of  young  friends ;  fellow-scholars  in 
the  Sorbonne.  Forty  new  years  have  carried  them  severally  ; 
thus  far. 

Meanwhile  the  Parlement  sits  daily  at  Troyes,  calling  cases ; 
and  daily  adjourns,  no  Procureur  making  his  appearance  to 
plead.  Troyes  is  as  hospitable  as  could  be  looked  for:  never- 
theless one  has  comparatively  a  dull  life.  No  crowds  now  to 
carry  you,  shoulder-high,  to  the  immortal  gods ;  scarcely  a  Pa- 
triot or  two  will  drive  out  so  far,  and  bid  you  be  of  firm  courage. 
You  are  in  furnished  lodgings,  far  from  home  and  domestic 
comfort :  little  to  do,  but  wander  over  the  unlovely  Champagne 
fields ;  seeing  the  grapes  ripen ;  taking  counsel  about  the  thou- 
sand-times consulted:  a  prey  to  tedium;  in  danger  even  that 
Paris  may  forget  you.  Messengers  come  and  go;  pacific  Lo- 
menie is  not  slack  in  negotiating,  promising;  D'Ormesson  and 
the  prudent  elder  Members  see  no  good  in  strife. 

After  a  dull  month,  the  Parlement,  yielding  and  retaining, 
makes  truce,  as  all  Parlemcnts  must.     The  Stamp-tax  is  with- 
drawn: the  Subvention  Land-tax  is  also  withdrawn;  but,  in  its 
stead,  there  is  granted,  what  they  call  a  "  Prorogation  of  the  , 
Second  Twentieth," — itself  a  kind  of  Land-tax,  but  not  so  op-  ', 
pressive  to  the  Influential  classes ;  which  lies  mainly  on  theJ 
Dumb  class.     Moreover,  secret  promises  exist  (on  the  part  of 
the  Elders),  that  finances  may  be  raised  by  Loan.     Of  the  ugly 
word  States-General  there  shall  be  no  mention. 

And  so,  on  the  20th  of  September,  our  exiled  Parlement  re- 
turns :  D'Espremenil  said,  "  it  went  out  covered  with  glory, 
but  had  come  back  covered  with  mud  {de  hone)."  Not  so, 
Aristogiton ;  or  if  so,  thou  surely  art  the  man  to  clean  it- 


78  CARLYLE  [1787 

Chapter  VI. — Lomenie's  Plots. 

Was  ever  unfortunate  Chief  Minister  so  bested  as  Lomenie- 
Brienne?  The  reins  of  the  State  fairly  in  his  hand  these  six 
months ;  and  not  the  smallest  motive-power  (of  Finance)  to  stir 
from  the  spot  with,  this  way  or  that !  He  flourishes  his  whip, 
but  advances  not.  Instead  of  ready-money,  there  is  nothing 
but  rebellious  debating  and  recalcitrating. 

Far  is  the  public  mind  from  having  calmed ;  it  goes  chafing 
and  fuming  ever  worse :  and  in  the  royal  coffers,  with  such 
yearly  Deficit  running  on,  there  is  hardly  the  color  of  coin. 
Ominous  prognostics !  Malesherbes,  seeing  an  exhausted,  ex- 
asperated France  grow  hotter  and  hotter,  talks  of  "  conflagra- 
tion :  "  Mirabeau,  without  talk,  has,  as  we  perceive,  descended 
on  Paris  again,  close  on  the  rear  of  the  Parlement,/" — not  to 
quit  his  native  soil  any  more. 

Over  the  Frontiers,  behold  Holland  invaded  by  Prussia  ;g  the 
French  party  oppressed,  England  and  the  Stadtholder  triumph- 
ing: to  the  sorrow  of  War-secretary  Montmorin  and  all  men. 
But  without  money,  sinews  of  war,  as  of  work,  and  of  existence 
itself,  what  can  a  Chief  Minister  do?  Taxes  profit  little:  this 
of  the  Second  Twentieth  falls  not  due  till  next  year;  and  will 
then,  with  its  "  strict  valuation,"  produce  more  controversy 
than  cash.  Taxes  on  the  Privileged  Classes  cannot  be  got 
registered ;  are  intolerable  to  our  supporters  themselves :  taxes 
on  the  Unprivileged  yield  nothing, — as  from  a  thing  drained 
dry  more  cannot  be  drawn.  Hope  is  nowhere,  if  not  in  the  old 
refuge  of  Loans. 

To  Lomenie,  aided  by  the  long  head  of  Lamoignon,  deeply 
pondering  this  sea  of  troubles,  the  thought  suggested  itself: 
Why  not  have  a  Successive  Loan  {Emprtint  Successif),  or  n  ^. 
Loan  that  went  on  lending,  year  after  year,  as  much  as  needful ;  .  ^ 
say,  till  1792?  The  trouble  of  registering  such  Loan  were  the 
same :  we  had  then  breathing  time ;  money  to  work  with,  at 
least  to  subsist  on.  Edict  of  a  Successive  Loan  must  be  pro- 
posed. To  conciliate  the  Philosophes,  let  a  liberal  Edict  walk 
in  front  of  it,  for  emancipation  of  Protestants ;  let  a  liberal 
Promise  guard  the  rear  of  it,  that  when  our  Loan  ends,  in 
that  final  1792,  the  States-General  shall  be  convoked, 

f  FWs  Adoptif,  Mirabeau,  iv.  1.  5. 

g  October   1787.     Montgaillard,  i.  374.     Besenval,  iii.  283, 


Oct. -Nov.]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  79 

Such  liberal  Edict  of  Protestant  Emancipation,  the  time  hav- 
ing come  for  it,  shall  cost  a  Lomenie  as  little  as  the  "  Death- 
penalties  to  be  put  in  execution "  did.  As  for  the  liberal 
Promise,  of  States-General,  it  can  be  fulfilled  or  not :  the  ful- 
filment is  five  good  years  off;  in  five  years  much  intervenes. 
But  the  registering  ?  Ah,  truly,  there  is  the  difficulty  ! — How- 
ever, we  have  that  promise  of  the  Elders,  given  secretly  at 
Troyes.  Judicious  gratuities,  cajoleries,  underground  in- 
trigues, with  old  Foulon,  named  "  Ame  damme.  Familiar- 
demon,  of  the  Parlement,"  may  perhaps  do  the  rest.  At  worst 
and  lowest,  the  Royal  Authority  has  resources, — which  ought 
it  not  to  put  forth?  If  it  cannot  realize  money,  the  Royal 
Authority  is  as  good  as  dead ;  dead  of  that  surest  and  miserablest 
death,  inanition.  Risk  and  win ;  without  risk  all  is  already  lost ! 
For  the  rest,  as  in  enterprises  of  pith,  a  touch  of  stratagem  often 
proves  furthersome,  his  Majesty  announces  a  Royal  Hunt,  for 
the  19th  of  November  next;  and  all  whom  it  concerns  are  joy- 
fully getting  their  gear  ready. 

Royal  Hunt  indeed ;  but  of  two-legged  unfeathered  game  \ 
At  eleven  in  the  morning  of  that  Royal  Hunt-day,  19th  of 
November,  1787,  unexpected  blare  of  trumpeting,  tumult  of 
charioteering  and  cavalcading  disturbs  the  Seat  of  Justice :  his 
Majesty  is  come,  with  Garde-des-Sceaux  Lamoignon,  and  Peers 
and  retinue,  to  hold  Royal  Session  and  have  Edicts  registered. 
What  a  change,  since  Louis  XIV  entered  here,  in  boots ;  and, 
whip  in  hand,  ordered  his  registering  to  be  done, — with  an 
Olympian  look,  which  none  durst  gainsay;  and  did,  without 
stratagem,  in  such  unceremonious  fashion,  hunt  as  well  as  re- 
gister !/f  For  Louis  XVI,  on  this  day,  the  Registering  will  be 
enough ;  if  indeed  he  and  the  day  suffice  for  it. 

Meanwhile,  with  fit  ceremonial  words,  the  purpose  of  the 
royal  breast  is  signified : — Two  Edicts,  for  Protestant  Emanci- 
pation, for  Successive  Loan :  of  both  which  Edicts  our  trusty 
Garde-des-Sceaux  Lamoignon  will  explain  the  purport;  on 
both  which  a  trusty  Parlement  is  requested  to  deliver  its  opin- 
ion, each  member  having  free  privilege  of  speech.  And  so,  La- 
moignon too  having  perorated  not  amiss,  and  wound  up  with 
that  Promise  of  States-General, — the  Sphere-music  of  Parlc- 
mentary  eloquence  begins.  Explosive,  responsive,  sphere  an- 
swering sphere,  it  waxes  louder  and  louder.     The  Peers  sit  at- 

h  Dulaure,  vi.  306. 


8o  CARLYLE  [1787 

tentive ;  of  diverse  sentiment :  unfriendly  to  States-General ; 
unfriendly  to  Despotism,  which  cannot  reward  merit,  and  is 
suppressing  places.  But  what  agitates  his  Highness  d'Or- 
leans?  The  rubicund  moon-head  goes  wagging;  darker 
beams  the  copper  visage,  like  unsecured  copper ;  in  the  glazed 
eye  is  disquietude ;  he  rolls  uneasy  in  his  seat,  as  if  he  meant 
something.  Amid  unutterable  satiety,  has  sudden  new  appe- 
tite, for  new  forbidden  fruit,  been  vouchsafed?  Disgust  and 
edacity ;  laziness  that  cannot  rest ;  futile  ambition,  revenge, 
non-admiralship : — O,  within  that  carbuncled  skin  what  a  con-  7 
fusion  of  confusions  sits  bottled !  -^ 

"  Eight  Couriers,"  in  the  course  of  the  day,  gallop  from  Ver- 
sailles, where  Lomenie  waits  palpitating;  and  gallop  back 
again,  not  with  the  best  news.  In  the  outer  Courts  of  the 
Palais,  huge  buzz  of  expectation  reigns ;  it  is  whispered  the 
Chief  Minister  has  lost  six  votes  overnight.  And  from  within, 
resounds  nothing  but  forensic  eloquence,  pathetic  and  even 
indignant ;  heartrending  appeals  to  the  royal  clemency,  that 
his  Majesty  would  please  to  summon  States-General  forthwith, 
and  be  the  Savior  of  France: — wherein  dusky-glowing  D'Es- 
premenil,  but  still  more  Sabatier  de  Cabre,  and  Freteau,  since 
named  Cornmerc  Freteau  (Goody  Freteau),  are  among  the  loud- 
est. For  six  mortal  hours  it  lasts,  in  this  manner ;  the  infinite  ■-, 
hubbub  unslackened. 

And  so  now,  when  brown  dusk  is  falling  through  the  win- 
dows, and  no  end  visible,  his  Majesty,  on  hint  of  Garde-des- 
Sceaux  Lamoignon,  opens  his  royal  lips  once  more  to  say,  in 
brief.  That  he  must  have  his  Loan-Edict  registered. — Momen- 
tary deep  pause ! — See  !  Monseigneur  d'Orleans  rises  ;  with 
moon-visage  turned  towards  the  royal  platform,  he  asks,  with 
a  delicate  graciosity  of  manner  covering  unutterable  things :  . 
"  Whether  it  is  a  Bed  of  Justice,  then,  or  a  Royal  Session  ?  " 
Fire  flashes  on  him  from  the  throne  and  neighborhood :   surly 

f  answer  that  "  it  is  a  Session."  In  that  case,  Monseigneur  will 
crave  leave  to  remark  that  Edicts  cannot  be  registered  by  order 
in  a  Session ;  and  indeed  to  enter,  against  such  registry,  his 
individual  humble  Protest.  "  Vous  ctcs  bicn  Ic  nialfrc  (You  will 
do  your  pleasure),"  answers  the  King;  and  thereupon,  in  high 
state,  marches  out,  escorted  by  his  Court-retinue ;  D'Orleans 
himself,  as  in  duty  bound,  escorting  him,  but  only  to  the  gate. 
Which  duty  done,  D'Orleans  returns  in  from  the  gate ;  redacts 


November]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  8i 

his  Protest,  in  the  face  of  an  applauding  Parlement,  an  ap- 
plauding France ;  and  so — has  cut  his  Court-moorings,  shall 
we  say?  And  will  now  sail  and  drift,  fast  enough,  toward 
Chaos? 

Thou  foolish  D'Orleans  ;  Equality  that  art  to  be !  Is  Roy- 
alty grown  a  mere  wooden  Scarecrow ;  whereon  thou,  pert 
scaldhcaded  crow,  mayest  alight  at  pleasure,  and  peck?  Not 
yet  wholly. 

Next  day,  a  Lettre-de-Cachet  sends  D'Orleans  to  bethink 
himself  in  his  Chateau  of  Villers-Cotterets,  where,  alas,  is  no 
Paris  with  its  joyous  necessaries  of  life ;  no  fascinating  indis- 
pensable Madame  de  Buffon — light  wife  of  a  great  Naturalist 
much  too  old  for  her.  Monseigneur,  it  is  said,  does  nothing 
but  walk  distractedly,  at  Villers-Cotterets ;  cursing  his  stars. 
Versailles  itself  shall  hear  penitent  wail  from  him,  so  hard  is 
his  doom.  By  a  second,  simultaneous  Lettre-de-Cachet, 
Goody  Freteau  is  hurled  into  the  Stronghold  of  Ham,  amid 
the  Norman  marshes ;  by  a  third,  Sabatier  de  Cabre  into  Mont 
St.  Michel,  amid  the  Norman  quicksands.  As  for  the  Parle- 
ment, it  must,  on  summons,  travel  out  to  Versailles,  with  its 
Register-Book  under  its  arm,  to  have  the  Protest  biffe  (ex- 
punged) ;  not  without  admonition,  and  even  rebuke.  A  stroke-^ 
of  authority,  which,  one  might  have  hoped,  would  quiet  mat^- 
ters. 

Unhappily,  no :  it  is  a  mere  taste  of  the  whip  to  rearing 
coursers,  which  makes  them  rear  worse !  When  a  team  of 
Twenty-five  Millions  begins  rearing,  what  is  Lomenie's  whip  ? 
The  Parlement  will  nowise  acquiesce  meekly ;  and  set  to 
register  the  Protestant  Edict,  and  do  its  other  work,  in  salu- 
tary fear  of  these  three  Lettres-de-Cachet.  Far  from  that,  it 
begins  questioning  Lettres-de-Cachet  generally,  their  legality, 
endurability ;  emits  dolorous  objurgation,  petition  on  petition 
to  have  its  three  Martyrs  delivered ;  cannot,  till  that  be  com- 
plied with,  so  much  as  think  of  examining  the  Protestant  Edict, 
but  puts  it  off  always  "  till  this  day  week."  i 

In  which  objurgatory  strain  Paris  and  France  joins  it,  or 
rather  has  preceded  it ;  making  fearful  chorus.  And  now  also 
the  other  Parlements,  at  length  opening  their  mouths,  begin 
to  join  ;  some  of  them,  as  at  Grenoble  and  at  Rennes,  with 
portentous  emphasis — threatening,  by  way  of  reprisal,  to  inter- 

i  Besenval,  iii.  309. 
Vol.  I.— 6 


82  CARLYLE  [1787 

diet  the  very  Tax-gatherer.;  "  In  all  former  contests,"  as 
Malesherbes  remarks,  "  it  was  the  Parlement  that  excited  the 
Public ;  but  here  it  is  the  Public  that  excites  the  Parlement." 

• 

Chapter  VII. — Internecine. 

What  a  France,  through  these  winter  months  of  the  year 
1787!  The  very  CEil-de-Boeuf  is  doleful,  uncertain;  with  a 
general  feeling  among  the  Suppressed,  that  it  were  better  to  be 
in  Turkey.  The  Wolf-hounds  are  suppressed,  the  Bear- 
hounds,  Duke  de  Coigny,  Duke  de  Polignac :  in  the  Trianon 
little-heav*en,  her  Majesty,  one  evening,  takes  Besenval's  arm ; 
asks  his  candid  opinion.  The  intrepid  Besenval — having,  as  he 
hopes,  nothing  of  the  sycophant  in  him — plainly  signifies  that, 
with  a  Parlement  in  rebellion,  and  an  CEil-de-Boeuf  in  suppres- 
sion, the  King's  Crown  is  in  danger ; — whereupon,  singular 
to  say,  her  Majesty,  as  if  hurt,  changed  the  subject,  et  ne  me 
parla  plus  dc  ricn !  k 

To  whom,  indeed,  can  this  poor  Queen  speak?  In  need  of 
wise  counsel,  if  ever  mortal  was ;  yet  beset  here  only  by  the 
hubbub  of  chaos !  Her  dwelling-place  is  so  bright  to  the  eye, 
and  confusion  and  black  care  darkens  it  all.  Sorrows  of  the 
Sovereign,  sorrows  of  the  woman,  thick-coming  sorrows  en- 
viron her  more  and  more.  Lamotte,  the  Necklace-Countess, 
has  in  these  late  months  escaped,  perhaps  been  suffered  to  es- 
cape, from  the  Salpetriere.  Vain  was  the  hope  that  Paris  might 
thereby  forget  her ;  and  this  ever-widening-lie,  and  heap  of 
lies,  subside.  The  Lamotte,  with  a  V  (for  Voleuse,  Thief) 
branded  on  both  shoulders,  has  got  to  England ;  and  will  there- 
from emit  lie  on  lie  ;  defiling  the  highest  queenly  name :  mere 
distracted  lies  ;^  which,  in  its  present  humor,  France  will 
greedily  believe. 

For  the  rest,  it  is  too  clear  our  Successive  Loan  is  not  fill- 
ing. As  indeed,  in  such  circumstances,  a  Loan  registered  by 
expunging  of  Protests  was  not  the  likeliest  to  fill.  Denuncia- 
tion of  Lcttrcs-de-CacJiet,  of  Despotism  generally,  abates  not : 
the  Twelve  Parlements  are  busy ;  the  Twelve  hundred  Plac- 

y  Weber,  i.  266. 

k  Besenval,  iii.  264. 

IMemoircs  jiistificatifs  de  la  Comtesse  dc  Lamotte  (London.  1788). 
Vie  de  Jeanne  dc  St.  Rcmi,  Comtesse  de  Lamotte,  &c.  &c.  See  Diamond 
Necklace  (ut  supra). 


1787I  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  83 

ardcrs,  Balladsingers,  Pamphleteers.  Paris  is  what,  in  figura- 
tive speech,  they  call  "  flooded  with  pamphlets  (regorge  de 
Brochures)  ;  "  flooded  and  eddying  again.  Hot  deluge, — from 
so  many  Patriot  ready-writers,  all  at  the  fervid  or  boiling 
point ;  each  ready-writer,  now  in  the  hour  of  eruption,  going 
like  an  Iceland  Geyser!  Against  which  what  can  a  judicious 
Friend  Morellet  do ;  a  Rivarol,  an  unruly  Linguet  (well  paid 
for  it, — spouting  cold! 

Now  also,  at  length,  does  come  discussion  of  the  Protestant 
Edict ;  but  only  for  new  embroilment ;  in  pamphlet  and  counter- 
pamphlet,  increasing  the  madness  of  men.  Not  even  Ortho- 
doxy, bedrid  as  she  seemed,  but  will  have  a  hand  in  this  con- 
fusion. She  once  again  in  the  shape  of  Abbe  Lenfant,  "  whom 
Prelates  drive  to  visit  and  congratulate," — raises  audible  sound 
from  her  pulpit-drum.»»  Or  mark  how  D'Espremenil,  who 
has  his  own  confused  way  in  all  things,  produces  at  the  right 
moment  in  Parlementary  harangue,  a  pocket  Crucifix,  with  the 
apostrophe  :  "  Will  ye  crucify  him  afresh  ?  "  Him,  O  D'Espre- 
menil, without  scruple ; — considering  what  poor  stuff,  of  ivory 
and  filigree,  he  is  made  of! 

To  all  which  add  only,  that  poor  Brienne  has  fallen  sick ; 
so  hard  was  the  tear  and  wear  of  his  sinful  youth,  so  violent, 
incessant  is  this  agitation  of  his  foolish  old  age.  Baited,  bayed 
at  through  so  many  throats,  his  Grace,  growing  consumptive, 
inflammatory  (with  hnmciir  de  dartre),  lies  reduced  to  milk  diet ; 
in  exasperation,  almost  in  desperation  ;  with  "  repose,"  pre- 
cisely the  impossible  recipe,  prescribed  as  the  indispensable." 

On  the  whole,  what  can  a  poor  Government  do,  but  once 
more  recoil  ineffectual?  The  King's  Treasury  is  running 
towards  the  lees ;  and  Paris  "  eddies  with  a  flood  of  pamphlets." 
At  all  rates,  let  the  latter  subside  a  little !  D'Orleans  gets  back 
to  Raincy,  which  is  nearer  Paris  and  the  fair  frail  Buffon ; 
finally  to  Paris  itself:  neither  are  Freteau  and  Sabatier  ban- 
ished forever.  The  Protestant  Edict  is  registered ;  to  the  joy 
of  Boissy  d'Anglas  and  good  Malesherbes :  Successive  Loan, 
all  protests  expunged  or  else  withdrawn,  remains  open, — the 
rather  as  few  or  none  come  to  fill  it.  States-General,  for  which 
the  Parlement  has  clamored,  and  now  the  whole  Nation  clam- 
ors, will  follow  "  in  five  years," — if  indeed  not  sooner.  O 
Parlement  of  Paris,  what  a  clamor  was  that !     "  Messieurs," 

m  Lacretelle,  iii.  343.     Montgaillard,  &c.  u  Besenval,  iii.  317. 


84  CARLYLE  [1787—88 

said  old  D'Ormesson,  "  you  will  get  States-General,  and  you 
will  repent  it."  Like  the  Horse  in  the  Fable,  who,  to  be 
avenged  of  his  enemy,  applied  to  the  Man.  The  Man  mounted ; 
did  swift  execution  on  the  enemy ;  but,  unhappily,  would  not 
dismount !  Instead  of  five  years,  let  three  years  pass,  and  this 
clamorous  Parlement  shall  have  both  seen  its  enemy  hurled 
prostrate,  and  been  itself  ridden  to  foundering  (say  rather, 
jugulated  for  hide  and  shoes),  and  lie  dead  in  the  ditch. 

Under  such  omens,  however,  we  have  reached  the  spring 
of  1788.  By  no  path  can  the  King's  Government  find  passage 
for  itself, but  is  everywhere  shamefully  flung  back.  Beleaguered 
by  Twelve  rebellious  Parlements,  which  are  grown  to  be  the 
organs  of  an  angry  Nation,  it  can  advance  nowhither ;  can 
accomplish  nothing,  obtain  nothing,  not  so  much  as  money 
to  subsist  on;  but  must  sit  there,  seemingly,  to  be  eaten  up: 
of  Deficit. 

The  measure  of  the  iniquity,  then,  of  the  Falsehood  which 
has  been  gathering  through  long  centuries,  is  nearly  full  ?  At 
least,  that  of  the  Misery  is !  From  the  hovels  of  the  Twenty- 
five  Millions,  the  misery,  permeating  upwards  and  forwards,  as 
its  law  is,  has  got  so  far, — to  the  very  Qi^il-de-Boeuf  of  Ver- 
sailles. Man's  hand,  in  this  blind  pain,  is  set  against  man :  not 
only  the  low  against  the  higher,  but  the  higher  against  each 
other ;  Provincial  Noblesse  is  bitter  against  Court  Noblesse ; 
Robe  against  Sword ;  Rochet  against  Pen.  But  against  the 
King's  Government  who  is  not  bitter?  Not  even  Besenval,  in 
these  days.  To  it  all  men  and  bodies  of  men  are  become  as 
enemies ;  it  is  the  centre  whereon  infinite  contentions  unite 
and  clash.  What  new  universal  vertiginous  movement  is  this ; 
of  Institutions,  social  Arrangements,  individual  Minds,  which 
once  worked  co-operative ;  now  rolling  and  grinding  in  dis- 
tracted collision?  Inevitable:  it  is  the  breaking-up  of  a 
World-Solecism,  worn  out  at  last,  down  even  to  bankruptcy 
of  money !  And  so  this  poor  Versailles  Court,  as  the  chief  or 
central  Solecism,  finds  all  the  other  Solecisms  arrayed  against 
it.  Most  natural !  For  your  human  Solecism,  be  it  Person  or 
Combination  of  Persons,  is  ever,  by  law  of  Nature,  uneasy ;  if 
verging  towards  bankruptcy,  it  is  even  miserable: — and  when 
would  the  meanest  Solecism  consent  to  blame  or  amend  itself, 
while  there  remained  another  to  amend? 

These  threatening  signs  do  not  terrify  Lomenie,  much  less 


April]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  85 

teach  him.  Lomenie,  though  of  hght  nature,  is  not  without 
courage  of  a  sort.  Nay,  have  we  not  read  of  Hghtest  creatures, 
trained  Canary-birds,  that  could  fiy  cheerfully  with  lighted 
matches,  and  fire  cannon  ;  fire  whole  powder-magazines  ?  To 
sit  and  die  of  Deficit  is  no  part  of  Lomenie's  plan.  The  evil  is 
considerable;  but  can  he  not  remove  it,  can  he  not  attack  it? 
At  lowest,  he  can  attack  the  symptom  of  it:  these  rebellious 
Parlements  he  can  attack,  and  perhaps  remove.  Much  is  dim 
to  Lomenie,  but  two  things  are  clear :  that  such  Parlementary 
duel  with  Royalty  is  growing  perilous,  nay  internecine  ;  above 
all,  that  money  must  be  had.  Take  thought,  brave  Lomenie ; 
thou  Garde-des-Sceaux  Lamoignon,  who  hast  ideas !  So  often 
defeated,  balked  cruelly  when  the  golden  fruit  seemed  within 
clutch,  rally  for  one  other  struggle.  To  tame  the  Parlement, 
to  fill  the  King's  coffers :  these  are  now  life-and-death  ques- 
tions. 

Parlements  have  been  tamed,  more  than  once.  Set  to  perch 
"  on  the  peaks  of  rocks  inaccessible  except  by  litters,"  a  Parle- 
ment grows  reasonable.  O  Maupeou,  thou  bold  bad  man,  had 
we  left  thy  work  where  it  was ! — But  apart  from  exile,  or  other 
violent  methods,  is  there  not  one  method,  w-hereby  all  things 
are  tamed,  even  lions  ?  The  method  of  hunger !  What  if  the 
Parlement's  supplies  were  cut  ofif ;  namely  its  Lawsuits  ! 

Minor  Courts,  for  the  trying  of  innumerable  minor  causes, 
miglit  be  instituted :  these  we  could  call  Grand  Bailliagcs. 
Whereon  the  Parlement,  shortened  of  its  prey,  would  look  with 
yellow  despair ;  but  the  Public,  fond  of  cheap  justice,  with  fa- 
vor and  hope.  Then  for  Finance,  for  registering  of  Edicts, 
why  not,  from  our  own  Qiil-de-Boeuf  Dignitaries,  our  Princes, 
Dukes,  Marshals,  make  a  thing  we  could  call  Plenary  Court; 
and  there,  so  to  speak,  do  our  registering  ourselves?  Saint 
Louis  had  his  Plenary  Court,  of  Great  Barons ;  a  most  useful 
to  him :  our  Great  Barons  are  still  here  (at  least  the  Name  of 
them  is  still  here) ;  our  necessity  is  greater  than  his. 

Such  is  the  Lomenie-Lamoignon  device ;  welcome  to  the 
King's  Council,  as  a  light-beam  in  great  darkness.  The  device 
seems  feasible,  it  is  eminently  needful :  be  it  once  well  exe- 
cuted, great  deliverance  is  wrought.  Silent,  then,  and  steady; 
now  or  never! — the  World  shall  see  one  other  Historical 
Scene ;  and  so  singular  a  man  as  Lomenie  dc  Briennc  still  the 
Stage-manager  there. 

a  Montgaillard,  i.  405. 


86  CARLYLE  [1788 

Behold,  accordingly,  a  Home-Secretary  Breteuil  "  beautify- 
ing Paris,"  in  the  peaceablest  manner,  in  this  hopeful  spring 
weather  of  1788;  the  old  hovels  and  hutches  disappearing 
from  our  Bridges :  as  if  for  the  State  too  there  were  halcyon 
weather,  and  nothing  to  do  but  beautify.  Parlement  seems  to 
sit  acknowledged  victor.  Brienne  says  nothing  of  Finance ;  or 
even  says,  and  prints,  that  it  is  all  well.  How  is  this ;  such 
halcyon  quiet;  though  the  Successive  Loan  did  not  fill?  In 
a  victorious  Parlement,  Counsellor  Goeslard  de  Monsabert 
even  denounces  that  "  levying  of  the  Second  Twentieth  on 
strict  valuation ; "  and  gets  decree  that  the  valuation  shall  not 
be  strict, — not  on  the  Privileged  classes.  Nevertheless  Brienne 
endures  it,  launches  no  Lettre-de-Cachet  against  it.  How  is 
this  ? 

Smiling  is  such  vernal  weather ;  but  treacherous,  sudden ! 
For  one  thing,  we  hear  it  whispered,  "  the  Intendants  of  Prov-  ' 
inces  have  all  got  order  to  be  at  their  posts  on  a  certain  day.".; 
Still  more  singular,  what  incessant  Printing  is  this  that  goes 
on  at  the  King's  Chateau,  under  lock  and  key?  Sentries  oc- 
cupy all  gates  and  windows ;  the  Printers  come  not  out ;  they 
sleep  in  their  workrooms ;  their  very  food  is  handed  in  to 
them  !  b  A  victorious  Parlement  smells  new  danger.  D'Espre- 
menil  has  ordered  horses  to  Versailles ;  prowls  round  that 
guarded  Printing-Ofifice ;  prying,  snuffing,  if  so  be  the  sagac- 
ity and  ingenuity  of  man  may  penetrate  it. 

To  a  shower  of  gold  most  things  are  penetrable.  D'Espre- 
menil  descends  on  the  lap  of  a  Printer's  Danae,  in  the  shape  of 
"  five  hundred  louis  d'or :  "  the  Danae's  Husband  smuggles  a 
ball  of  clay  to  her ;  which  she  delivers  to  the  golden  Counsel- 
lor of  Parlement.  Kneaded  within  it,  there  stick  printed  proof- 
sheets  : — by  Heaven  !  the  royal  Edict  of  that  same  self-register- 
ing Plenary  Court;  of  those  Grand  Bailliagcs  that  shall  cut  short 
our  Lawsuits !  It  is  to  be  promulgated  over  all  France  on  one 
and  the  same  day. 

This,  then,  is  what  the  Intendants  were  bid  wait  for  at  their 
posts :  this  is  what  the  Court  sat  hatching,  as  its  accursed 
cockatrice-egg;  and  would  not  stir,  though  provoked,  till 
the  brood  were  out!  Hie  with  it,  D'Espremenil,  home  to  \ 
Paris ;  convoke  instantaneous  Sessions ;  let  the  Parlement, 
and  the  Earth,  and  the  Heavens  know  it.  ~-^ 

b  Weber,  i.  276. 


1788]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  87 


Chapter  VIII. — Lomenie's  Death-Throes. 

On  the  morrow,  which  is  the  3d  of  May  1788,  an  astonished 
Parlement  sits  convoked ;  hstens  speechless  to  the  speech  of 
D'Espremenil,  unfolding  the  infinite  misdeed.  Deed  of  treach- 
ery ;  of  unhallowed  darkness,  such  as  Despotism  loves !  De- 
nounce it,  O  Parlement  of  Paris ;  awaken  France  and  the  Uni- 
verse ;  roll  what  thunder-barrels  of  forensic  eloquence  thou 
hast :  with  thee  too  it  is  verily  Now  or  never ! 

The  Parlement  is  not  wanting,  at  such  juncture.  In  the 
hour  of  his  extreme  jeopardy,  the  lion  first  incites  himself  by 
roaring,  by  lashing  his  sides.  So  here  the  Parlement  of  Paris. 
On  the  motion  of  D'Espremenil,  a  most  patriotic  Oath,  of  the 
One-and-all  sort,  is  sworn,  with  united  throat ; — an  excellent 
new-idea,  which,  in  these  coming  years,  shall  not  remain  unimi- 
tated.  Next  comes  indomitable  Declaration,  almost  of  the 
rights  of  man,  at  least  of  the  rights  of  Parlement ;  Invocation 
to  the  friends  of  French  Freedom,  in  this  and  in  subsequent 
time.  All  which,  or  the  essence  of  all  which,  is  brought  to 
paper ;  in  a  tone  wherein  something  of  plaintiveness  blends 
with,  and  tempers,  heroic  valor.  And  thus,  having  sounded  the 
storm-bell — which  Paris  hears,  which  all  France  will  hear ; 
and  hurled  such  defiance  in  the  teeth  of  Lomenie  and  Despot- 
ism, the  Parlement  retires  as  from  a  tolerable  first  day's  work. 

But  how  Lomenie  felt  to  see  his  cockatrice-egg  (so  essential 
to  the  salvation  of  France)  broken  in  this  premature  manner, 
let  readers  fancy!  Indignant  he  clutches  at  his  thunderbolts 
(de  Cachet,  of  the  Seal)  ;  and  launches  two  of  them :  a  bolt  for 
D'Espremenil ;  a  bolt  for  that  busy  Goeslard,  whose  service 
in  the  Second  Twentieth  and  "  strict  valuation  "  is  not  forgot- 
ten. Such  bolts  clutched  promptly  overnight,  and  launched 
with  the  early  new  morning,  shall  strike  agitated  Paris  if  not 
into  requiescence,  yet  into  wholesome  astonishment. 

Ministerial  thunderbolts  may  be  launched  ;  but  if  they  do 
not  hitf  D'Espremenil  and  Goeslard,  warned,  both  of  them, 
as  is  thought,  by  the  singing  of  some  friendly  bird,  elude  the 
Lomenie  Tipstaves ;  escape  disguised  through  skywindows, 
over  roofs,  to  their  own  Palais  dc  Justice :  the  thunderbolts 
have  missed.  Paris  (for  the  buzz  flies  abroad)  is  struck  into 
astonishment  not  wholesome.    The  two  Martyrs  of  Liberty  doff 


88  CARLYLE  [1788 

their  disguises ;  don  their  long  gowns :  behold,  in  the  space 
of  an  hour,  by  aid  of  ushers  and  swift  runners,  the  Parlement, 
with  its  Counsellors,  Presidents,  even  Peers,  sits  anew  as- 
sembled. The  assembled  Parlement  declares  that  these  its  two 
Martyrs  cannot  be  given  up,  to  any  sublunary  authority  ;  more- 
over that  the  "  session  is  permanent,"  admitting  of  no  adjourn- 
ment, till  pursuit  of  them  has  been  relinquished.  ~-j 

And  so,  with  forensic  eloquence,  denunciation  and  protest, 
with  couriers  going  and  returning,  the  Parlement,  in  this  state 
of  continual  explosion  that  shall  cease  neither  night  nor  day, 
waits  the  issue.  Awakened  Paris  once  more  inundates  those 
outer  courts ;  boils,  in  floods  wilder  than  ever,  through  all 
avenues.  Dissonant  hubbub  there  is ;  jargon  as  of  Babel,  in 
the  hour  when  they  were  first  smitten  (as  here)  with  mutual 
unintelligibility,  and  the  people  had  not  yet  dispersed ! 

Paris  City  goes  through  its  diurnal  epochs,  of  working  and 
slumbering ;  and  now,  for  the  second  time,  most  European 
and  African  mortals  are  asleep.  But  here,  in  this  Whirlpool  of 
Words,  sleep  falls  not ;  the  Night  spreads  her  coverlid  of  Dark- 
ness over  it  in  vain.  Within  is  the  sound  of  mere  martyr  in- 
vincibility ;  tempered  with  the  due  tone  of  plaintivieness. 
Without  is  the  infinite  expectant  hum — growing  drowsier  a  1 
little.    So  has  it  lasted  for  six-and-thirty  hours.  '^ 

But  hark,  through  the  dead  of  midnight,  what  tramp  is  this? 
Tramp  as  of  armed  men,  foot  and  horse ;  Gardes  Franqaises, 
Gardes  Suisses :  marching  hither ;  in  silent  regularity  ;  in  the 
flare  of  torchlight !  There  are  Sappers  too,  with  axes  and  crow- 
bars :  apparently,  if  the  doors  open  not,  they  will  be  forced ! — 
It  is  Captain  D'Agoust,  missioned  from  Versailles.  D'Agoust, 
a  man  of  known  firmness ; — who  once  forced  Prince  Conde 
himself,  by  mere  incessant  looking  at  him,  to  give  satisfaction 
and  fight :  a  he  now,  with  axes  and  torches,  is  advancing  on  the 
very  sanctuary  of  Justice.  Sacrilegious  ;  yet  what  help  ?  The 
man  is  a  soldier ;  looks  merely  at  his  orders  ;  impassive,  moves 
forward  like  an  inanimate  engine. 

The  doors  open  on  summons,  there  need  no  axes ;  door  after 
door.    And  now  the  innermost  door  opens  ;  discloses  the  long- 
gowned  Senators  of  France :  a  hundred  and  sixty-seven  by  tale,   y^ 
seventeen  of  them  Peers ;   sitting  there,  majestic,  "  in  perma-  /i 
nent  session."     Were  not  the  man  military,  and  of  cast-iron, 

a  Weber,  i.  283.  ^ 


May]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  89 

this  sight,  this  silence  re-echoing  the  clank  of  his  own  boots, 
might  stagger  him !  For  the  hundred  and  sixty-seven  receive 
him  in  perfect  silence ;  which  some  liken  to  that  of  the  Roman 
Senate  overfallen  by  Brennus  ;  some  to  that  of  a  nest  of  coiners 
surprised  by  officers  of  the  Police.^  Messieurs,  said  D'Agoust, 
De  par  le  Roi!  Express  order  has  charged  D'Agoust  with  the 
sad  duty  of  arresting  two  individuals :  M.  Duval  d'Espremenil 
and  M,  Goeslard  de  Monsabert.  Which  respectable  individu- 
als, as  he  has  not  the  honor  of  knowing  them,  are  hereby  in- 
vited, in  the  King's  name,  to  surrender  themselves. — Profound 
silence !  Buzz,  which  grows  a  murmur :  "  We  are  all  D'Espre- 
menils !  "  ventures  a  voice ;  which  other  voices  repeat.  The 
President  inquires,  Whether  he  will  employ  violence?  Cap- 
tain D'Agoust,  honored  with  his  Majesty's  commission,  has  to 
execute  his  Majesty's  order;  would  so  gladly  do  it  without 
violence,  will  in  any  case  do  it ;  grants  an  august  Senate  space 
to  deliberate  which  method  they  prefer.  And  thereupon 
D'Agoust,  with  grave  military  courtesy,  has  withdrawn  for 
the  moment. 

What  boots  it,  august  Senators  ?  All  avenues  are  closed  with 
fixed  bayonets.  Your  Courier  gallops  to  Versailles,  through 
the  dewy  Night ;  but  also  gallops  back  again,  with  tidings  that 
the  order  is  authentic,  that  it  is  irrevocable.  The  outer  courts 
simmer  with  idle  population  ;  but  D'Agoust's  grenadier-ranks 
stand  there  as  immovable  floodgates :  there  will  be  no  revolt- 
ing to  deliver  you.  "  Messieurs !  "  thus  spoke  D'Espremenil, 
"  when  the  victorious  Gauls  entered  Rome,  which  they  had 
carried  by  assault,  the  Roman  Senators,  clothed  in  their  pur- 
ple, sat  there,  in  their  curule  chairs,  with  a  proud  and  tranquil 
countenance,  awaiting  slavery  or  death.  Such  too  is  the  lofty 
spectacle,  which  you,  in  this  hour,  offer  to  the  universe  (d 
runivers),  after  having  generously  " — with  much  more  of  the 
like,  as  can  still  be  read.f 

In  vain,  O  D'Espremenil!  Here  is  this  cast-iron  Captain 
D'Agoust,  with  his  cast-iron  military  air,  come  back.  Despot- 
ism, constraint,  destruction  sit  waving  in  his  plumes.  D'Espre- 
menil must  fall  silent ;  heroically  give  himself  up,  lest  worst 
befall.  Him  Goeslard  heroically  imitates.  With  spoken  and 
speechless  emotion,  they  fling  themselves  into  the  arms  of  their 
Parlementary  brethren,  for  a  last  embrace :  and  so  amid  plau- 
b  Besenval,  iii.  355-  ^  Toulongeon,  i.  App.  20. 


90  CARLYLE  [1788 

dits  and  plaints,  from  a  hundred  and  sixty-five  throats ;  amid 
wavings,  sobbings,  a  whole  forest-sigh  of  Parlementary 
pathos — they  are  led  through  winding  passages,  to  the  rear- 
gate  ;  where,  in  the  gray  of  the  morning,  two  Coaches  with 
Exempts  stand  waiting.  There  must  the  victims  mount ;  bayo- 
nets menacing  behind.  D'Espremenil's  stern  question  to  the 
populace,  "  Whether  they  have  courage  ? "  is  answered  by  si- 
lence. They  mount,  and  roll ;  and  neither  the  rising  of  the 
May  sun  (it  is  the  6th  morning),  nor  its  setting  shall  lighten 
their  heart:  but  they  fare  forward  continually;  D'Espemenil 
towards  the  utmost  Isles  of  Saint  Marguerite,  or  Hieres  (sup- 
posed by  some,  if  that  is  any  comfort,  to  be  Calypso's  Island) ; 
Goeslard  toward  the  land-fortress  of  Pierre-en-Cize,  extant 
then,  near  the  City  of  Lyons. 

Captain  D'Agoust  may  now  therefore  look  forward  to 
Majorship,  to  Commandantship  of  the  Tuileries  ;  d — and  withal 
vanish  from  History ;  where  nevertheless  he  has  been  fated  to 
do  a  notable  thing.  For  not  only  are  D'Espremenil  and  Goes- 
lard safe  whirling  southward,  but  the  Parlement  itself  has 
straightwav  to  march  out :  to  that  also  his  inexorable  order 
reaches.  Gathering  up  their  long  skirts,  they  file  out,  the  whole 
Plundred  and  Sixty-five  of  them,  through  two  rows  of  unsym- 
pathetic grenadiers :  a  spectacle  to  gods  and  men.  The  peo- 
ple revolt  not ;  they  only  wonder  and  grumble :  also,  we  re- 
mark, these  unsympathetic  grenadiers  are  Gardes  Frangaises — 
who,  one  day,  will  sympathize !  In  a  word,  the  Palais  de  Jus- 
tice is  swept  clear,  the  doors  of  it  are  locked ;  and  D'Agoust 
returns  to  Versailles  with  the  key  in  his  pocket — having,  as 
was  said,  merited  preferment. 

As  for  this  Parlement  of  Paris,  now  turned  out  to  the  street, 
we  will  without  reluctance  leave  it  there.  The  Beds  of  Justice 
it  had  to  undergo,  in  the  coming  fortnight,  at  Versailles,  in 
registering,  or  rather  refusing  to  register,  those  new-hatched 
Edicts ;  and  how  it  assembled  in  taverns  and  tap-rooms  there, 
for  the  purpose  of  Protesting ;  e  or  hovered  disconsolate,  with 
outspread  skirts,  not  knowing  where  to  assemble ;  and  was 
reduced  to  lodge  Protest  "  with  a  Notary ;  "  and  in  the  end, 
to  sit  still  (in  a  state  of  forced  "  vacation  "),  and  do  nothing :  all 
this,  natural  now,  as  the  burying  of  the  dead  after  battle,  shall 
not  concern  us.  The  Parlement  of  Paris  has  as  good  as  per- 
d  Montgaillard,  i.  404.  e  Weber,  i.  299-303. 


May-July]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  91 

formed  its  part ;  doing  and  misdoing,  so  far,  but  hardly  further, 
could  it  stir  the  world. 

Lomenie  has  removed  the  evil,  then?  Not  at  all:  not  so 
much  as  the  symptom  of  the  evil ;  scarcely  the  tivclfth  part  of 
the  symptom,  and  exasperated  the  other  eleven !  The  Intend- 
ants  of  Provinces,  the  Military  Commandants  are  at  their  posts, 
on  the  appointed  8th  of  May :  but  in  no  Parlement,  if  not  in 
the  single  one  of  Douai,  can  these  new  Edicts  get  registered.  J 
Not  peaceable  signing  with  ink ;  but  browbeating,  bloodshed- 
ding,  appeal  to  primary  club-law!  Against  these  Bailliages, 
against  this  Plenary  Court,  exasperated  Themis  everywhere 
shows  face  of  battle  ;  the  Provincial  Noblesse  are  of  her  party, 
and  whoever  hates  Lomenie  and  the  evil  time ;  with  her  Attor- 
neys and  Tipstaves,  she  enlists  and  operates  down  even  to  the 
populace.  At  Rennes  in  Brittany,  where  the  historical  Ber- 
trand  de  Moleville  is  Intendant,  it  has  passed  from  fatal  con- 
tinual duelling,  between  the  military  and  gentry,  to  street-  1 
fighting;  to  stone-volleys  and  musket-shot:  and  still  the  ■ 
Edicts  remain  unregistered.  The  afflicted  Bretons  send  re- 
monstrance to  Lomenie,  by  a  Deputation  of  Twelve ;  whom, 
however,  Lomenie,  having  heard  them,  shuts  up  in  the  Bas- 
tille. A  second  larger  Deputation  he  meets,  by  his  scouts,  on 
the  road,  and  persuades  or  frightens  back.  But  now  a  third 
largest  Deputation  is  indignantly  sent  by  many  roads :  refused 
audience  on  arriving,  it  meets  to  take  counsel ;  invites  Lafa- 
yette and  all  Patriot  Bretons  in  Paris  to  assist ;  agitates  itself ; 
becomes  the  Breton  Club,  first  germ  of — the  Jacobins'  Socicty.f 

So  many  as  eight  Parlements  get  exiled :  g  others  might  need 
that  remedy,  but  it  is  one  not  always  easy  of  appliance.  At 
Grenoble,  for  instance,  where  a  Mounier,  a  Barnave  have  not 
been  idle,  the  Parlement  had  due  order  (by  Lcttrcs-dc-Cachct) 
to  depart,  and  exile  itself:  but  on  the  morrow,  instead  of 
coaches  getting  yoked,  the  alarm-bell  bursts  forth,  ominous ; 
and  peals  and  booms  all  day:  crowds  of  mountaineers  rush 
down,  with  axes,  even  with  firelocks — whom  (most  ominous 
of  all!)  the  soldiery  shows  no  eagerness  to  deal  with.  "  Axe 
over  head,"  the  poor  General  has  to  sign  capitulation ;  to  en- 
gage that  the  Lcftres-dc-Cachct  shall  remain  unexecuted,  and  a 

^  A.  F.  de  Bertrand-Moleville,  Memoires  Particulicrs   (Paris,  1816), 
i.  ch.  i.     Marmontel,  Memoires,  iv.  27. 
g  Montgaillard,  i.  308. 


92  CARLYLE  [1788 

beloved  Parlement  stay  where  it  is.  Besangon,  Dijon,  Rouen, 
Bourdeaux,  are  not  what  they  should  be !  At  Pau  in  Beam, 
where  the  old  Commandant  had  failed,  the  new  one  (a  Gram- 
mont,  native  to  them)  is  met  by  a  Procession  of  townsmen  with 
the  Cradle  of  Henri  Ouatre,  the  Palladium  of  their  Town ;  is 
conjured  as  he  venerates  this  old  Tortoise-shell,  in  which  the 
great  Henri  was  rocked,  not  to  trample  on  Bearnese  liberty ; 
is  informed,  withal,  that  his  Majesty's  cannon  are  all  safe — in 
the  keeping  of  his  Majesty's  faithful  Burghers  of  Pau,  and  do 
now  lie  pointed  on  the  walls  there  ;  ready  for  action !  h 

At  this  rate,  your  Grand  Bailliages  are  like  to  have  a  stormy 
infancy.  As  for  the  Plenary  Court,  it  has  literally  expired  in 
the  birth.  The  very  Courtiers  looked  shy  at  it ;  old  Marshal 
Broglie  declined  the  honor  of  sitting  therein.  Assaulted  by  a 
universal  storm  of  mingled  ridicule  and  execration,*  this  poor 
Plenary  Court  met  once,  and  never  any  second  time.  Dis- 
tracted country !  Contention  hisses  up,  with  forked  hydra- 
tongues,  wheresoever  poor  Lomenie  sets  his  foot.  "  Let  a 
Commandant,  a  Commissioner  of  the  King,"  says  Weber, 
"  enter  one  of  these  Parlements  to  have  an  Edict  registered,  the 
whole  Tribunal  will  disappear,  and  leave  the  Commandant 
alone  with  the  Clerk  and  First  President.  The  Edict  registered 
and  the  Commandant  gone,  the  whole  Tribunal  hastens  back, 
to  declare  such  registration  null.  The  highways  are  covered 
with  Grand  Dcpiitalions  of  Parlements,  proceeding  to  Versailles, 
to  have  their  registers  expunged  by  the  King's  hand ;  or  re- 
turning home,  to  cover  a  new  page  with  a  new  resolution  still 
more  audacious." ; 

Such  is  the  France  of  this  year  1788.  Not  now  a  Golden 
or  Paper  Age  of  Hope ;  with  its  horse-racings,  balloon-flyings, 
and  finer  sensibilities  of  the  heart :  ah,  gone  is  that ;  its  golden 
efifulgence  paled,  bedarkened  in  this  singular  manner — brewing 
toward  preternatural  weather !  For,  as  in  that  wreck-storm  of 
Paul  ct   Virginic  and   Saint-Pierre — "  One   huge    motionless 

h  Besenval,  iii.  348. 

i  La  Cotir  Plcnicre,  hcro'i-tragi-comedie  en  trois  actes  et  en  prose ; 
jouee  le  14  Juillct  1788,  par  une  societe  d'amateurs  dans  tin  Chateau 
aux  environs  de  Versailles;  par  M.  I'Abbe  de  Vermond,  Lccteur  de  la 
Reine :  A  Baville  (Laiiioigiion's  Coutitry-housc) ,  et  se  trouve  a  Paris, 
chez  la  Veuve  Liberie,  a  I'enseignc  de  la  Revolution,  1788. — La  Passion, 
la  Mart  et  la  Resurrection  du  Pcuple:  Imprime  ^  Jerusalem,  &c.  &c. — 
See  Montgaillard,  i.  407. 


May.July]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  93 

cloud  "  (say,  of  Sorrow  and  Indignation)  "  girdles  our  whole 
horizon ;  streams  up,  hairy,  copper-edged,  over  a  sky  of  the 
color  of  lead."  Motionless  itself;  but  "  small  clouds  "  (as  ex- 
iled Parlements  and  suchlike),  "  parting  from  it,  fly  over  the 
zenith,  with  the  velocity  of  birds :  " — till  at  last,  with  one  loud 
howl,  the  whole  Four  Winds  be  dashed  together,  and  all  the 
world  exclaim.  There  is  the  tornado!  Tout  le  monde  s'ccria, 
Voila  I'ouragan! 

For  the  rest,  in  such  circumstances,  the  Successive  Loan, 
very  naturally,  remains  unfilled ;  neither,  indeed,  can  that  im- 
post of  the  Second  Twentieth,  at  least  not  on  "  strict  valuation," 
be  levied  to  good  purpose :  "  Lenders,"  says  Weber,  in  his  hys- 
terical vehement  manner,  "  are  afraid  of  ruin ;  tax-gatherers 
of  hanging."  The  very  Clergy  turn  away  their  face  :  convoked 
in  Extraordinary  Assembly,  they  afford  no  gratuitous  gift  {don 
gratnit) — if  it  be  not  that  of  advice;  here  too  instead  of  cash 
is  clamor  for  States-General./^' 

O  Lomenie-Brienne,  with  thy  poor  flimsy  mind  all  bewil- 
dered, and  now  "  three  actual  cauteries  "  on  thy  worn-out 
body ;  who  art  like  to  die  of  inflammation,  provocation,  milk- 
diet,  dartres  vivcs  and  maladic — (best  untranslated) ;  I  and  pre- 
sidest  over  a  France  with  innumerable  actual  cauteries,  which 
also  is  dying  of  inflammation  and  the  rest !  Was  it  wise  to  quit 
the  bosky  verdures  of  Brienne,  and  they  new  ashlar  Chateau 
there,  and  what  it  held,  for  this?  Soft  were  those  shades  and 
lawns ;  sweet  the  hymns  of  Poetasters,  the  blandishments  of 
high-rouged  Graces :"'  and  always  this  and  the  other  Philo- 
sophe  Morellet  (nothing  deeming  himself  or  thee  a  questionable 
Sham-Priest)  could  be  so  happy  in  making  happy: — and  also 
(hadst  thou  known  it),  in  the  Military  School  hard  by,  there  sat, 
studying  mathematics,  a  dusky-complexioned  taciturn  Boy, 
under  the  name  of:  Napoleon  Bonaparte  ! — With  fifty  years 
of  effort,  and  one  final  dead-lift  struggle,  thou  hast  made  an 
exchange !  Thou  hast  got  thy  robe  of  office — as  Hercules  had 
his  Nessus'-shirt. 
-^  On  the  13th  of  July  of  this  1788,  there  fell,  on  the  very  edge 
of  harvest,  the  most  frightful  hailstorm  ;  scattering  into  wild 
waste  the  Fruits  of  the  Year ;    which  had  otherwise  suffered 

k  Lamcth,  Asscmb.  Const.   (Introd.)  p.  87. 

/  Montgaillard,  i.  424. 

m  See  Memoires  de  Morellet. 


94  CARLYLE  [1788 

grievously  by  droug-ht.  For  sixty  leagues  round  Paris  espe- 
cially, the  ruin  was  almost  total."  To  so  many  other  evils,  then, 
there  is  to  be  added,  that  of  dearth,  perhaps  of  famine. 

Some  days  before  this  hailstorm,  on  the  5th  of  July ;  and 
still  more  decisively  some  days  after  it,  on  the  8th  of  August — 
Lomenie  announces  that  the  States-General  are  actually  to 
meet  in  the  following  month  of  May.  Till  after  which  period, 
this  of  the  Plenary  Court,  and  the  rest,  shall  remain  postponed. 
Further,  as  in  Lomenie  there  is  no  plan  of  forming  or  holding 
these  most  desirable  States-General,  "  thinkers  are  invited  " 
to  furnish  him  with  one — through  the  medium  of  discussion 
by  the  public  press  ! 

What  could  a  poor  Minister  do?  There  are  still  ten  months 
of  respite  reserved :  a  sinking  pilot  will  fling  out  all  things,  his 
very  biscuit-bags,  lead,  log,  compass  and  quadrant,  before 
flinging  out  himself.  It  is  on  this  principle,  of  sinking,  and  the 
incipient  delirium  of  despair,  that  we  explain  likewise  the  al- 
most miraculous  "  invitation  to  thinkers."  Invitation  to 
Chaos  to  be  so  kind  as  build,  out  of  its  tumultuous  drift-wood, 
an  Ark  of  Escape  for  him !  In  these  cases,  not  invitation  but 
command  has  usually  proved  serviceable. — The  Queen  stood, 
that  evening,  pensive,  in  a  window,  with  her  face  turned  towards 
the  Garden.  The  Chef  de  Gobclct  had  followed  her  with  an  ob- 
sequious cup  of  coffee ;  and  then  retired  till  it  were  sipped. 
Her  Majesty  beckoned  Dame  Campan  to  approach :  "  Grand 
Dieu!  "  murmured  she,  with  a  cup  in  her  hand,  "  what  a  piece 
of  news  will  be  made  public  to-day !  The  King  grants  States- 
General."  Then  raising  her  eyes  to  Heaven  (if  Campan  were 
not  mistaken),  she  added :  "  'Tis  a  first  beat  of  the  drum,  of  ill- 
omen  for  France.    This  Noblesse  will  ruin  us."  0 

During  all  that  hatching  of  the  Plenary  Court,  while  La- 
moignon  looked  so  mysterious,  Besenval  had  kept  asking  him 
one  question  :  Whether  they  had  cash  ?  To  which  as  Lamoig- 
non  always  answered  (on  the  faith  of  Lomenie)  that  the  cash 
was  safe,  judicious  Besenval  rejoined  that  then  all  was  safe. 
Nevertheless,  the  melancholy  fact  is,  that  the  royal  coffers  are 
almost  getting  literally  void  of  coin.  Indeed,  apart  from  all 
other  things,  this  "  invitation  to  thinkers,"  and  the  great  change 
now  at  hand  are  enough  to  "  arrest  the  circulation  of  capital," 
and  forward  only  that  of  pamphlets.  A  few  thousand  gold 
n  Marmontel,  iv.  30.  0  Campan,  iii.  104,  in. 


August]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  95 

louis  are  now  all  of  money  or  money's  worth  that  remains  in 
the  King's  Treasury.  With  another  movement  as  of  despera- 
tion, Lomenie  invites  Necker  to  come  and  be  Controller  of  Fi- 
nances !  Necker  has  other  work  in  view  than  controlling  Fi- 
nances for  Lomenie :  with  a  dry  refusal  he  stands  taciturn ; 
awaiting  his  time. 

What  shall  a  desperate  Prime  Minister  do?  He  has  grasped 
at  the  strongbox  of  the  King's  Theatre :  some  Lottery  had 
been  set  on  foot  for  those  sufferers  by  the  hailstorm  ;  in  his  ex- 
treme necessity,  Lomenie  lays  hands  even  on  this./*  To  make 
provision  for  the  passing  day,  on  any  terms,  will  soon  be  im- 
possible.— On  the  i6th  of  August,  poor  Weber  heard,  at  Paris 
and  Versailles,  hawkers,  "  with  a  hoarse  stifled  tone  of  voice 
(voix  etouffee,  sourde),"  drawling  and  snuffling,  through  the 
streets,  an  Edict  concerning  Payments  (such  was  the  soft  title 
Rivarol  had  contrived  for  it) :  all  Payments  at  the  Royal  Treas- 
ury shall  be  made  henceforth,  three-fifths  in  Cash,  and  the  re- 
maining two-fifths — in  Paper  bearing  interest!  Poor  Weber 
almost  swooned  at  the  sound  of  these  cracked  voices,  with  their 
bodeful  raven-note ;  and  will  never  forget  the  effect  it  had  on 
him.g 

But  the  effect  on  Paris,  on  the  World  generally?  From  the 
dens  of  Stock-brokerage,  from  the  heights  of  Political  Econ- 
omy, of  Neckerism  and  Philosophism ;  from  all  articulate  and 
inarticulate  throats,  rise  hootings  and  bowlings,  such  as  ear 
had  not  yet  heard.  Sedition  itself  may  be  imminent !  Mon- 
seigneur  d'Artois,  moved  by  Duchess  Polignac,  feels  called  to 
wait  upon  her  Majesty  ;  and  explain  frankly  what  crisis  matters 
stand  in.  "  The  Queen  wept ;  "  Brienne  himself  wept ; — for  it 
is  now  visible  and  palpable  that  he  must  go. 

Remains  only  that  the  Court,  to  whom  his  manners  and 
garrulities  were  always  agreeable,  shall  make  his  fall  soft.  The 
grasping  old  man  has  already  got  his  Archbishopship  of  Tou- 
louse exchanged  for  the  richer  one  of  Sens :  and  now,  in  this 
hour  of  pity,  he  shall  have  the  Coadjutorship  for  his  nephew 
(hardly  yet  of  due  age) ;  a  Dameship  of  the  Palace  for  his 
niece ;  a  Regiment  for  her  husband ;  for  himself  a  red  Car- 
dinal's-hat,  a  Coupe  de  Bois  (cutting  from  the  royal  forests),  and 
on  the  whole  "  from  five  to  six  hundred  thousand  livres  of  rev- 
enue :  'V  finally,  his  Brother,  the  Comte  de  Brienne,  shall  still 

/)  Besenval,  iii.  360.  y  Weber,  i.  339.  r  Ibid.  i.  341. 


96  CARLYLE  [1788 

continue  War  Minister.  Biickled-roiind  with  such  bolsters 
and  huge  featherbeds  of  Promotion,  let  him  now  fall  as  soft  as 
he  can ! 

And  so  Lomenie  departs :  rich  if  Court-titles  and  Money- 
bonds  can  enrich  him ;  but  if  these  cannot,  perhaps  the  poorest 
of  all  extant  men.  "  Hissed  at  by  the  people  of  Versailles,"  he 
drives  forth  to  Jardi ;  southward  to  Brienne, — for  recovery  of 
health.  Then  to  Nice,  to  Italy ;  but  shall  return ;  shall  glide  to 
and  fro,  tremulous,  faint-twinkling,  fallen  on  awful  times :  till 
the  Guillotine — snuff  out  his  weak  existence?  Alas,  worse: 
for  it  is  blozvn  out,  or  choked  out,  foully,  pitiably,  on  the  way  to 
the  Guillotine !  In  his  Palace  of  Sens,  rude  Jacobin  Bailiffs 
made  him  drink  with  them  from  his  own  wine-cellars,  feast  with 
them  from  his  own  larder;  and  on  the  morrow  morning,  the 
miserable  old  man  lies  dead.  This  is  the  end  of  Prime  Minis- 
ter, Cardinal  Archbishop  Lomenie  de  Brienne.  Flimsier 
mortal  was  seldom  fated  to  do  as  weighty  a  mischief ;  to  have  a 
life  as  despicable-envied,  an  exit  as  frightful.  Fired,  as  the 
phrase  is,  with  ambition  ;  blown,  like  a  kindled  rag,  the  sport  of 
winds,  not  this  way,  not  that  way,  but  of  all  ways,  straight 
towards  such  a  powder-mine, — which  he  kindled  !  Let  us  pity 
the  hapless  Lomenie ;  and  forgive  him  ;  and,  as  soon  as  possible, 
forget  him. 

Chapter  IX. — Burial  with  Bonfire. 

Besenval,  during  these  extraordinary  operations,  of  Pay- 
ment two-fifths  in  Paper,  and  change  of  Prime  Minister,  had 
been  out  on  a  tour  through  his  District  of  Command ;  and,  in- 
deed, for  the  last  months,  peacefully  drinking  the  waters  of 
Contrexeville.  Returning  now,  in  the  end  of  August,  towards 
Moulins,  and  "  knowing  nothing,"  he  arrives  one  evening  at 
Langres ;  finds  the  whole  Town  in  a  state  of  uproar  (grande 
riimcur).  Doubtless  some  sedition;  a  thing  too  common  in 
these  days  !  He  alights  nevertheless ;  inquires  of  a  "man  toler- 
ably dressed,"  what  the  matter  is? — "  How?"  answers  the  man, 
"you  have  not  heard  the  news?  The  Archbishop  is  thrown 
out,  and  M.  Necker  is  recalled ;  and  all  is  going  to  go  well  !"^ 

Such  rumcur  and  vociferous  acclaim  has  risen  round  M. 
Necker,  ever  from  "  that  day  when  he  issued  from  the  Queen's 

s  Besenval,  iii.  366. 


August]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  97 

Apartments,"  a  nominated  Minister.  It  was  on  the  24th  of 
August :  "  the  galleries  of  the  Chateau,  the  courts,  the  streets  of 
Versailles ;  in  few  hours,  the  Capital ;  and,  as  the  news  flew, 
all  France,  resounded  with  the  cry  of  Vive  Ic  Roi!  Vive  M. 
Necker!  "t  In  Paris,  indeed,  it  unfortunately  got  the  length  of 
"  turbulence."  Petards,  rockets  go  off,  in  the  Place  Dauphine, 
more  than  enough.  A  "  wicker  Figure  (Mannequin  d' osier)  " 
in  Archbishop's  stole,  made  emblematically,  three-fifths  of  it 
satin,  two-fifths  of  it  paper,  is  promenaded,  not  in  silence,  to  the 
popular  judgment-bar;  is  doomed;  shriven  by  a  mock  Abbe  de 
Vermond ;  then  solemnly  consumed  by  fire,  at  the  foot  of 
Henri's  Statue  on  the  Pont  Neuf; — with  such  petarding  and 
huzzaing  that  Chevalier  Dubois  and  his  City-watch  see  good 
finally  to  make  a  charge  (more  or  less  ineffectual) ;  and  there 
wanted  not  burning  of  sentry-boxes,  forcing  of  guard-houses, 
and  also  "  dead  bodies  thrown  into  the  Seine  over-night,"  to 
avoid  new  effervescence." 

Parlements  therefore  shall  return  from  exile :  Plenary  Court, 
Payment  two-fifths  in  Paper  have  vanished ;  gone  off  in  smoke, 
at  the  foot  of  Henri's  Statue.  States-General  (with  a  Political 
Millennium)  are  now  certain  ;  nay,  it  shall  be  announced,  in  our 
fond  haste,  for  January  next :  and  all,  as  the  Langres  man  said, 
is  "  going  to  go." 

To  the  prophetic  glance  of  Besenval,  one  other  thing  is  too 
apparent :  that  Friend  Lamoignon  cannot  keep  his  Keepership. 
Neither  he  nor  War-minister  Comte  de  Brienne !  Already  old 
Foulon,  with  an  eye  to  be  war-minister  himself,  is  making  un- 
derground movements.  This  is  that  same  Foulon  named  amc 
damncc  dii  Parlcmcnt;  a  man  grown  gray  in  treachery,  in  grip- 
ing, projecting,  intriguing  and  iniquity :  who  once  when  it  was 
objected,  to  some  finance-scheme  of  his,  "  What  will  the  people 
do?" — made  answer,  in  the  fire  of  discussion,  "The  people 
may  eat  grass :  "  hasty  words,  which  fly  abroad  irrevocable, — 
and  will  send  back  tidings  ! 

Foulon,  to  the  relief  of  the  world,  fails  on  this  occasion ;  and 
will  always  fail.  Nevertheless,  it  steads  not  M.  dc  Lamoignon. 
It  steads  not  the  doomed  man  that  he  have  interviews  with  the 

/  Weber,  i.  342. 

uHistoire  Parlcmciitaire  de  la  RcvoUitinn  FraiiQaisc ;  ou  Jourual  dcs 
Asscmblccs  Nationalcs  dcpiiis  1789  (Paris.  1833  ct  scqq.),  i.  253.   Lainetli, 
Assemblee    Constituante,  i.   (Introd.)  p.  89. 
Vol.  I.— 7 


98  CARLYLE  [1788 

King:  and  be  "seen  to  return  radieux,"  emitting  rays.  La- 
moignon  is  the  hatred  of  Parlements :  Comte  de  Brienne  is 
Brother  to  the  Cardinal  Archbishop.  The  24th  of  August  has 
been ;  and  the  14th  September  is  not  yet,  when  they  two,  as 
their  great  Principal  had  done,  descend, — made  to  fall  soft,  like 
him. 

And  now,  as  if  the  last  burden  had  been  rolled  from  its  heart, 
and  assurance  were  at  length  perfect,  Paris  bursts  forth  anew 
into  extreme  jubilee.  The  Basoche  rejoices  aloud,  that  the  foe 
of  Parlements  is  fallen  ;  Nobility,  Gentry,  Commonalty  have  re- 
joiced ;  and  rejoice.  Nay,  now,  with  new  emphasis.  Rascality 
itself,  starting  suddenly  from  its  dim  depths,  will  arise  and  do  it, 
— for  down  even  thither  the  new  Political  Evangel,  in  some 
rude  version  or  other,  has  penetrated.  It  is  Monday,  the  14th 
of  September,  1788:  Rascality  assembles  anew,  in  great  force, 
in  the  Place  Dauphine ;  lets  off  petards,  fires  blunderbusses,  to 
an  incredible  extent,  without  interval,  for  eighteen  hours. 
There  is  again  a  wicker  Figure,  "Mannequin  of  osier-;"  the 
centre  of  endless  bowlings.  Also  Necker's  Portrait  snatched, 
or  purchased,  from  some  Printshop,  is  borne  processionally, 
aloft  on  a  perch,  with  huzzas ; — an  example  to  be  remembered. 

But  chiefly  on  the  Pont  Neuf,  where  the  Great  Henri,  in 
bronze,  rides  sublime ;  there  do  the  crowds  gather.  All  pas- 
sengers must  stop,  till  they  have  bowed  to  the  People's  King, 
and  said  audibly :  Vk'c  Henri  Qnatre;  an  diahle  Lamoignon!  No 
carriage  but  must  stop ;  not  even  that  of  his  Highness  d'Or- 
leans.  Your  coach-doors  are  opened :  Monsieur  will  please  to 
put  forth  his  head  and  bow ;  or  even,  if  refractory,  to  alight  al- 
together, and  kneel :  from  Madame  a  wave  of  her  plumes,  a 
smile  of  her  fair  face,  there  where  she  sits,  shall  suffice : — and 
surely  a  coin  or  two  (to  buy  fusees)  were  not  unreasonable, 
from  the  Upper  Classes,  friends  of  Liberty?  In  this  manner  it 
proceeds  for  days  ;  in  such  rude  horse-play, — not  without  kicks. 
The  City-watch  can  do  nothing ;  hardly  save  its  own  skin :  for 
the  last  twelvemonth,  as  we  have  sometimes  seen,  it  has  been 
a  kind  of  pastime  to  hunt  the  Watch.  Besenval,  indeed,  is  at 
hand  with  soldiers ;  but  they  have  orders  to  avoid  firing,  and 
are  not  prompt  to  stir. 

On  Monday  morning  the  explosion  of  petards  began :  and 
now  it  is  near  midnight  of  Wednesday ;  and  the  "  wicker  Man- 
nequin "  is  to  be  buried, — apparently  in  the  Antique  fashion. 


Sept.  i4th-i6th]        THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  99 

Long  rows  of  torches,  following  it,  move  towards  the  Hotel  La- 
moignon  ;  but  "  a  servant  of  mine  "  (Besenval's)  has  run  to  give 
warning,  and  there  are  soldiers  come.  Gloomy  Lamoignon  is 
not  to  die  by  conflagration,  or  this  night ; — not  yet  for  a  year, 
and  then  by  gunshot  (suicidal  or  accidental  is  unknown).^' 
Foiled  Rascality  burns  its  "  Mannikin  of  osier,"  under  his  win- 
dows ;  "  tears  up  the  sentry-box,"  and  rolls  off :  to  try  Brienne ; 
to  try  Dubois  Captain  of  the  Watch.  Now,  however,  all  is  be- 
stirring itself;  Gardes  Franqaises,  Invalides,  Horse-patrol:  the 
Torch  Procession  is  met  with  sharp  shot,  with  the  thrusting  of 
bayonets,  the  slashing  of  sabres.  Even  Dubois  makes  a  charge, 
with  that  Cavalry  of  his,  and  the  crudest  charge  of  all :  "  there 
are  a  great  many  killed  and  wounded."  Not  without  clamor, 
complaint ;  subsequent  criminal  trials,  and  official  persons  dy- 
ing of  heartbreak !«;  So,  however,  with  steel-besom,  Rascality 
is  brushed  back  into  its  dim  depths,  and  the  streets  are  swept 
clear. 

Not  for  a  century  and  half  had  Rascality  ventured  to  step 
forth  in  this  fashion  ;  not  for  so  long,  showed  its  huge  rude 
lineaments  in  the  light  of  day.  A  Wonder  and  new  Thing :  as 
yet  gamboling  merely,  in  awkward  Brobdignag  sport,  not  with- 
out quaintness;  hardly  in  anger:  yet  in  its  huge  half-vacant 
laugh  lurks  a  shade  of  grimness, — which  could  unfold  itself! 

However,  the  thinkers  invited  by  Lomenie  are  now  far  on 
with  their  pamphlets :  States-General,  on  one  plan  or  another, 
will  infallibly  meet ;  if  not  in  January,  as  was  once  hoped,  yet 
at  latest  in  May.  Old  Duke  de  Richelieu,  moribund  in  these 
autumn  days,  open  his  eyes  once  more,  murmuring,  "  What 
would  Louis  Fourteenth  "  (whom  he  remembers)  "  have  said !" 
— then  closes  them  again,  forever,  before  the  evil  time. 

V  Histoirc  dc  la  Revolution,  par  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberie,  i.  50. 
w  Ibid.,  i.  58. 


BOOK   FOURTH. 

STATES-GENERAL. 

Chapter  I. — The  Notables  Again. 

THE  universal  prayer,  therefore,  is  to  be  fulfilled !  Al- 
ways in  days  of  national  perplexity,  when  wrong 
abounded  and  help  was  not,  this  remedy  of  States-Gen- 
eral was  called  for ;  by  a  Malesherbes,  nay  by  a  Fenelon  ;a  even 
Parlements  calhng  for  it  were  "  escorted  with  blessings."  And 
now  behold  it  is  vouchsafed  us  ;  States-General  shall  verily  be ! 

To  say,  let  States-General  be,  was  easy ;  to  say  in  what  man- 
ner they  shall  be,  is  not  so  easy.  Since  the  year  1614,  there 
have  no  States-General  met  in  France,  all  trace  of  them  has 
vanished  from  the  living  habits  of  men.  Their  structure,  powers, 
methods  of  procedure,  which  were  never  in  any  measure  fixed, 
have  now  become  wholly  a  vague  possibility.  Clay  which  the 
potter  may  shape,  this  way  or  that : — say  rather,  the  twenty-five 
millions  of  potters ;  for  so  many  have  now,  more  or  less,  a  vote 
in  it !  How  to  shape  the  States-General  ?  There  is  a  problem. 
Each  Body-corporate,  each  privileged,  each  organized  Class  has 
secret  hopes  of  its  own  in  that  matter;  and  also  secret  mis- 
givings of  its  own, — for,  behold,  this  monstrous  twenty-million 
Class,  hitherto  the  dumb  sheep  which  these  others  had  to  agree 
about  the  manner  of  shearing,  is  now  also  arising  with  hopes ! 
It  has  ceased  or  is  ceasing  to  be  dumb ;  it  speaks  through 
Pamphlets,  or  at  least  brays  and  growls  behind  them,  in  unison, 
— increasing  wonderfully  their  volume  of  sound. 

As  for  the  Parlement  of  Paris,  it  has  at  once  declared  for  the 
"  old  form  of  1614."  Which  form  had  this  advantage,  that  the 
Tiers  Etat,  Third  Estate,  or  Commons,  figured  there  as  a  show 
mainly:  whereby  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy  had  but  to  avoid 
quarrel  between  themselves,  and  decide  unobstructed  what  they 
thought  best.  Such  was  the  clearly  declared  opinion  of  the 
Paris  Parlement.     But,  being  met  by  a  storm  of  mere  hooting 

a  Montgaillarcl,  i.  461. 
100 


1788]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  loi 

and  howling  from  all  men,  such  opinion  was  blown  straight- 
way to  the  winds ;  and  the  popularity  of  the  Parlement  along 
with  it, — never  to  return.  The  Parlement's  part,  we  said 
above,  was  as  good  as  played.  Concerning  which,  however, 
there  is  this  further  to  be  noted :  the  proximity  of  dates.  It  was 
on  the  22d  of  September  that  the  Parlement  returned  from 
"  vacation  "  or  "  exile  in  its  estates ; "  to  be  reinstalled  amid 
boundless  jubilee  from  all  Paris.  Precisely  next  day  it  was, 
that  this  same  Parlement  came  to  its  "  clearly  declared 
opinion :  "  and  then  on  the  morrow  after  that,  you  behold  it 
"  covered  with  outrages ;  "  its  outer  court,  one  vast  sibilation, 
and  the  glory  departed  from  it  for  evermore.^  A  popularity 
of  twenty-four  hours  was,  in  those  times,  no  uncommon  al- 
lowance. 

On  the  other  hand,  how  superfluous  was  that  invitation  of 
Lomenie's :  the  invitation  to  thinkers  !  Thinkers  and  unthink- 
ers,  by  the  million,  are  spontaneously  at  their  post,  doing  what 
is  in  them.  Clubs  labor :  Socicte  Puhlicole ;  Breton  Club ;  En- 
raged Club,  Club  des  Enrages.  Likewise  Dinner-parties  in  the 
Palais  Royal ;  your  Mirabeaus,  Talleyrands  dining  there,  in 
company  with  Chamforts,  Morellets,  with  Duponts  and  hot 
Parlementeers,  not  without  object !  For  a  certain  Neckcresin 
Lion's-provider,  whom  one  could  name,  assembles  them  there  ;c 
— or  even  their  own  private  determination  to  have  dinner  does 
it.  And  them  as  to  Pamphlets — in  figurative  language,  "  it  is 
a  sheer  snowing  of  pamphlets ;  like  to  snow-up  the  Government 
thoroughfares !  "  Now  is  the  time  for  Friends  of  Freedom ; 
sane,  and  even  insane. 

Count,  or  self-styled  Count,  d'Aintrigues,  "  the  young  Lan- 
guedocian  gentleman,"  with  perhaps  Chamfort  the  Cynic  to 
help  him,  rises  into  furor  almost  Pythic ;  highest,  where  many 
are  high.^  Foolish  young  Languedocian  gentleman  ;  who  him- 
self so  soon,  "emigrating  among  the  foremost,"  has  to  fly  in- 
dignant over  the  marches,  with  the  Confrat  Social  in  his  pocket, 
— toward  outer  darkness,  thankless  intriguings,  ig>iis-fatitiis 
hoverings,  and  death  by  the  stiletto!  Abbe  Sieyes  has  left 
Chartres  Cathedral,  and  canonry  and  book-shelves  there ;  has 
let  his  tonsure  grow,  and  come  to  Paris  with  a  secular  head,  of 
the  most  irrefragable  sort,  to  ask  three  questions,  and  answer 

b  Weber,  i.  347.  c  Ibid.  i.  360. 

d  Memoirc  sur  Ics  Etats-Gcucraux.     Sec  Montgaillard,  i.  457-9. 


I02  CARLYLE  [1788 

them:  What  is  the  Third  Estate f  All.— What  has  it  hitherto 
been  in  our  form  of  government?  Nothing. — What  does  it 
want?  To  become  Something. 

D'Orleans, — for  be  sure  he,  on  his  way  to  Chaos,  is  in  the 
thick  of  this, — promulgates  his  Deliberations, c  fathered  by  him, 
written  by  Laclos  of  the  Liaisons  Dangereuses.  The  resuh  of 
which  comes  out  simply :  '*  The  Third  Estate  is  the  Nation." 
On  the  other  hand,  Monseigneur  d'Artois,  with  other  Princes 
of  the  Blood,  publishes  in  solemn  Memorial  to  the  King,  that  if 
such  things  be  listened  to.  Privilege,  Nobility,  Monarchy, 
Church,  State  and  Strongbox  are  in  danger./"  In  danger  truly : 
and  yet  if  you  do  not  listen,  are  they  out  of  danger?  It  is  the 
voice  of  all  France,  this  sound  that  rises :  Immeasurable, 
manifold;  as  the  sound  of  outbreaking  waters:  wise  were  he 
who  knew  \\diat  to  do  in  it, — if  not  to  fly  to  the  mountains,  and 
hide  himself? 

How  an  ideal,  all-seeing  Versailles  Government,  sitting  there 
on  such  principles,  in  such  an  environment,  would  have  deter- 
mined to  demean  itself  at  this  new  juncture,  may  even  yet  be 
a  question.  Such  a  Government  would  have  felt  too  well  that 
its  long  task  was  now  drawing  to  a  close ;  that,  under  the  guise 
of  these  States-General,  at  length  inevitable,  a  new  omnipotent 
Unknown  of  Democracy  was  coming  into  being ;  in  presence  of 
which  no  Versailles  Government  either  could  or  should,  except 
in  a  provisory  character,  continue  extant.  To  enact  which 
provisory  character,  so  unspeakably  important,  might  its  whole 
faculties  but  have  sufficed ;  and  so  a  peaceable,  gradual,  well- 
conducted  Abdication  and  Domine-diinittas  have  been  the 
issue ! 

This  for  our  ideal,  all-seeing  Versailles  Government.  But 
for  the  actual  irrational  Versailles  Government?  Alas,  that  is 
a  Government  existing  there  only  for  its  own  behoof :  without 
right,  except  possession  ;  and  now  also  without  might.  It  fore- 
sees nothing,  sees  nothing ;  has  not  so  much  as  a  purpose,  but 
has  only  purposes, — and  the  instinct  whereby  all  that  exists  will 
struggle  to  keep  existing.  Wholly  a  vortex ;  in  which  vain 
counsels,  hallucinations,  falsehoods,  intrigues,  and  imbecilities 

e  Deliberations  a  prendre  pour  Ics  Assonblccs  des  Bailliagcs. 

f  Memoirc  prcscntc  an  Roi,  par  Monseigneur  Comtc  d'Artois,  M.  le 
Prince  dc  Cnnde,  M.  le  Due  (\c  Ronrbon,  M.  le  Due  d'Enghicn,  et  M.  le 
Prince  dc  Conli.     (Given  in  Hist.  Pari.  i.  256.) 


Sept. -Oct.]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  103 

whirl ;  like  withered  rubbish  in  the  meeting  of  winds !  The 
CEil-de-Boeuf  has  its  irrational  hopes,  if  also  its  fears.  Since 
hitherto  all  States-General  have  done  as  good  as  nothing,  why 
should  these  do  more?  The  Commons,  indeed,  look  danger- 
ous ;  but  on  the  whole  is  not  revolt,  unknown  now  for  five 
generations,  an  impossibility?  The  Three  Estates  can,  by 
management,  be  set  against  each  other;  the  Third  will,  as  here- 
tofore, join  with  the  King;  will,  out  of  mere  spite  and  self-in- 
terest, be  eager  to  tax  and  vex  the  other  two.  The  other  two 
are  thus  delivered  bound  into  our  hands,  that  we  may  fleece 
them  likewise.  Whereupon,  money  being  got,  and  the  Three 
Estates  all  in  quarrel,  dismiss  them,  and  let  the  future  go  as  it 
can !  As  good  Archbishop  Lomenie  was  wont  to  say :  "  There 
are  so  many  accidents ;  and  it  needs  but  one  to  save  us." — Yes ; 
and  how  many  to  destroy  us  ? 

Poor  Necker  in  the  midst  of  such  an  anarchy  does  what  is 
possible  for  him.  He  looks  into  it  with  obstinately  hopeful 
face ;  lauds  the  known  rectitude  of  the  kingly  mind ;  listens  in- 
dulgent-like to  the  known  perverseness  of  the  queenly  and 
courtly ; — emits  if  any  proclamation  or  regulation  one  favoring 
the  Tiers  Etat;  but  settling  nothing ;  hovering  afar  off  rather, 
and  advising  all  things  to  settle  themselves.  The  grand  ques- 
tions, for  the  present,  have  got  reduced  to  two :  the  Double 
Representation,  and  the  Vote  by  Head.  Shall  the  Commons 
have  a  "  double  representation,"  that  is  to  say,  have  as  many 
members  as  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy  united  ?  Shall  the  States- 
General,  when  once  assembled,  vote  and  deliberate,  in  one  body, 
or  in  three  separate  bodies ;  "  vote  by  head,  or  vote  by  class," — 
ordre  as  they  call  it  ?  These  are  the  moot-points  now  filling  all 
France  with  jargon,  logic  and  eleutheromania.  To  terminate 
which,  Necker  bethinks  him.  Might  not  a  second  Convocation 
of  the  Notables  be  fittest?  Such  second  Convocation  is  re- 
solved on. 

On  the  6th  of  November  of  this  year,  1788,  these  Notables 
accordingly  have  reassembled ;  after  an  interval  of  some  eigh- 
teen months.  They  are  Calonne's  old  Notables,  the  same  Hun- 
dred and  Forty-four, — to  show  one's  impartiality ;  likewise  to 
save  time.  They  sit  there  once  again,  in  their  Seven  llurcaus, 
in  the  hard  winter  weather:  it  is  the  hardest  winter  seen  since 
1709;  thermometer  below  zero  of  Fahrenheit,  Seine  River 
frozen  over..?     Cold,  scarcity  and  clcutheromaniac  clamor:  a 

g  Marmontcl,  Mcmoircs  (London,  1805),  iv.  2)2)-     Hist.  Pari.  &c. 


104  CARLYLE  [1788 

changed  world  since  these  Notables  were  "  organed  out,"  in 
May  gone  a  year !  They  shall  see  now  whether,  under  their 
Seven  Princes  of  the  Blood,  in  their  Seven  Bureaus,  they  can 
settle  the  moot-points. 

To  the  surprise  of  Patriotism,  these  Notables,  once  so  patri- 
otic, seem  to  incline  the  wrong  way ;  toward  the  anti-patriotic 
side.  They  stagger  at  the  Double  Representation,  at  the  Vote 
by  Head :  there  is  not  affirmative  decision ;  there  is  mere  de- 
bating, and  that  not  with  the  best  aspects.  For,  indeed,  were 
not  these  Notables  themselves  mostly  of  the  Privileged  Classes  ? 
They  clamored  once ;  now  they  have  their  misgivings ;  make 
their  dolorous  representations.  Let  them  vanish,  ineffectual ; 
and  return  no  more !  They  vanish,  after  a  month's  session,  on 
this  I2th  of  December,  year  1788:  the  last  terrestrial  Notables; 
not  to  reappear  any  other  time,  in  the  History  of  the  World. 

And  so,  the  clamor  still  continuing,  and  the  Pamphlets ;  and 
nothing  but  patriotic  Addresses,  louder  and  louder,  pouring  in 
on  us  from  all  corners  of  France, — Necker  himself  some  fort- 
night after,  before  the  year  is  yet  done,  has  to  present  his 
Report  h  recommending  at  his  own  risk  that  same  Double  Rep- 
resentation; nay  almost  enjoining  it,  so  loud  is  the  jargon  and 
eleutheromania.  What  dubitating,  what  circumambulating! 
These  whole  six  noisy  months  (for  it  began  with  Brienne  in 
July),  has  not  Report  followed  Report,  and  one  Proclamation 
flown  in  the  teeth  of  the  other  ?i 

However,  that  first  moot-point,  as  we  see,  is  now  settled.  As 
for  the  second,  that  of  voting  by  Head  or  by  Order,  it  unfortu- 
nately is  still  left  hanging.  It  hangs  there,  we  may  say,  be- 
tween the  Privileged  Orders  and  the  Unprivileged ;  as  a  ready- 
made  battle-prize,  and  necessity  of  war,  from  the  very  first: 
which  battle-prize  whosoever  seizes  it — may  thenceforth  bear  as 
battle-flag,  with  the  best  omens ! 

But  so  at  least,  by  Royal  Edict  of  the  24th  of  January,/ 
does  it  finally,  to  impatient  expectant  France,  become  not  only 
indubitable  that  National  Deputies  are  to  meet,  but  possible  (so 
far  and  hardly  farther  has  the  royal  Regulation  gone)  to  begin 
electing  them. 

h  Rapport  fait  an  Roi  dans  son  Conseil,  le  27  Deccmhrc  1788. 
i  5th  July ;  8th  August ;  23d  September,  &c.  &c. 

j  Reglcmcnt  da  Roi  pour  la  Convocation  dcs  Etats-Generaux  a  Ver- 
sailles.    (Reprinted,  wrong  dated,  in  Histoire  Parlementairc,  i.  262.) 


November]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  105 


Chapter  II. — The  Election. 

Up,  then,  and  be  doing !  The  royal  signal-word  flies  through 
France,  as  through  vast  forests  the  rushing  of  a  mighty  wind. 
At  Parish  Churches,  in  Townhalls,  and  every  House  of  Con- 
vocation ;  by  Bailliages,  by  Seneschalsies,  in  whatsoever  form 
men  convene;  there,  with  confusion  enough,  are  Primary  As- 
semblies forming.  To  elect  your  Electors;  such  is  the  form 
prescribed :  then  to  draw  up  your  "  Writ  of  Plaints  and  Griev- 
ances {Cahier  de  plaint cs  ct  dolcanccs) ,"  of  which  latter  there  is 
no  lack. 

With  such  virtue  works  this  Royal  January  Edict ;  as  it  rolls 
rapidly,  in  its  leathern  mails,  along  these  frostbound  highways, 
towards  all  the  four  winds.  Like  some  Hat,  or  magic  spell- 
word  ; — which  such  things  do  resemble !  For  always,  as  it 
sounds  out  "  at  the  market-cross,"  accompanied  with  trumpet- 
blast;  presided  by  Bailli,  Seneschal,  or  other  minor  Function- 
ary, with  beef-eaters ;  or,  in  country  churches,  is  droned  forth 
after  sermon,  "  an  prone  des  messes  paroissales ;"  and  is  regis- 
tered, posted  and  let  fly  over  all  the  world, — you  behold  how 
this  multitudinous  French  People,  so  long  simmering  and  buzz- 
ing in  eager  expectancy,  begins  heaping  and  shaping  itself  into 
organic  groups.  Which  organic  groups,  again,  hold  smaller 
organic  grouplets:  the  inarticulate  buzzing  becomes  articulate 
speaking  and  acting.  By  Primary  Assembly,  and  then  by 
Secondary ;  by  "  successive  elections,"  and  infinite  elaboration 
and  scrutiny,  according  to  prescribed  process, — shall  the 
genuine  "  Plaints  and  Grievances  "  be  at  length  got  to  paper ; 
shall  the  fit  National  Representative  be  at  length  laid  hold  of. 

How  the  whole  People  shakes  itself,  as  if  it  had  one  life ;  and, 
in  thousand-voiced  rumor,  announces  that  it  is  awake,  sudden- 
ly out  of  long  death-sleep,  and  will  thenceforth  sleep  no  more ! 
The  long  looked-for  has  come  at  last ;  wondrous  news,  of  Vic- 
tory, Deliverance,  Enfranchisement,  sounds  magical  through 
every  heart.  To  the  proud  strong  man  it  has  come ;  whose 
strong  hands  shall  no  more  be  gyved ;  to  whom  boundless  un- 
conquered  continents  lie  disclosed.  The  weary  day-drudge  has 
heard  of  it;  the  beggar  with  his  crust  moistened  in  tears. 
What!  To  us  also  has  li()i)c  reached;  down  even  to  us? 
Hunger  and  hardshii)  are  not  to  be  eternal?     The  bread  we 


xo6  CARLYLE  [1789 

extorted  from  the  rugged  glebe,  and,  with  the  toil  of  our  sinews, 
reaped  and  ground,  and  kneaded  into  loaves,  was  not  wholly  for 
another,  then ;  but  we  also  shall  eat  of  it,  and  be  filled  ?  Glori- 
ous news  (answer  the  prudent  elders),  but  ail-too  unlikely! — 
Thus,  at  any  rate,  may  the  lower  people,  who  pay  no  money- 
taxes  and  have  no  right  to  vote,  k  assiduously  crowd  round  those 
that  do ;  and  most  Halls  of  Assembly,  within  doors  and  without, 
seem  animated  enough. 

Paris,  alone  of  Towns,  is  to  have  Representatives ;  the  num- 
ber of  them  twenty.  Paris  is  divided  into  Sixty  Districts ;  each 
of  which  (assembled  in  some  church,  or  the  like)  is  choosing 
two  Electors.  Official  deputations  pass  from  District  to  Dis- 
trict, for  all  is  inexperience  as  yet,  and  there  is  endless  consult- 
ing. The  streets  swarm  strangely  with  busy  crowds,  pacific 
yet  restless  and  loquacious ;  at  intervals,  is  seen  the  gleam  of 
military  muskets ;  especially  about  the  Palais,  where  the  Parle-; 
ment,  once  more  on  duty,  sits  querulous,  almost  tremulous. 

Busy  is  the  French  world !  In  those  great  days,  what  poorest 
speculative  craftsman  but  will  leave  his  workshop;  if  not  to 
vote,  yet  to  assist  in  voting  ?  On  all  highways  is  a  rustling  and 
bustling.  Over  the  wide  surface  of  France,  ever  and  anon, 
through  the  spring  months,  as  the  Sower  casts  his  corn  abroad 
upon  the  furrows,  sounds  of  congregating  and  dispersing ;  of 
crowds  in  deliberation,  acclamation,  voting  by  ballot  and  by 
voice, — rise  discrepant  toward  the  ear  of  Heaven.  To  which 
political  phenomena  add  this  economical  one,  that  Trade  is 
stagnant,  and  also  Bread  getting  dear ;  for  before  the  rigorous 
winter  there  was,  as  we  said,  a  rigorous  summer,  with  drought, 
and  on  the  13th  of  July  with  destructive  hail.  What  a  fearful 
day !  all  cried  while  that  tempest  fell.  Alas,  the  next  anni- 
versary of  it  will  be  a  worse. ^  Under  such  aspects  is  France 
electing  National  Representatives. 

The  incidents  and  specialties  of  these  Elections  belong  not  to 
Universal,  but  to  Local  or  Parish  History:  for  which  reason  let 
not  the  new  troubles  of  Grenoble  or  Besangon ;  the  bloodshed 
on  the  streets  of  Rcnnes,  and  consequent  march  thither  of  the 
Breton  "  Young  Men "  with  Manifesto  by  their  "  Mothers, 
Sisters  and  Sweethearts ;»«  nor  suchlike,  detain  us  here.     It  is 

k  Rcglcmcnt  du  Roi  (in  Histoire  Parlemcntaire,  as  above,  i.  267-307). 

/  Bailly,  Mcmoircs,  i.  ,336. 

m  Protestation  ct  Arrcie  dcs  Jcuncs  Gens  de  la  Ville  de  Nantes,  du  28 


& 


Jan.-Feb.]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  107 

the  same  sad  history  everywhere ;  with  superficial  variations. 
A  reinstated  Parlement  (as  at  Besanqon),  which  stands  aston- 
ished at  this  Behemoth  of  a  States-General  it  had  itself  evoked, 
starts  forward,  with  more  or  less  audacity,  to  fix  a  thorn  in  its 
nose;  and,  alas,  is  instantaneously  struck  down,  and  hurled 
quite  out, — for  the  new  popular  force  can  use  not  only  argu- 
ments but  brickbats !  Or  else,  and  perhaps  combined  with  this, 
it  is  an  order  of  Noblesse  (as  in  Brittany),  which  will  before- 
hand tic  up  the  Third  Estate,  that  it  harm  not  the  old  privileges. 
In  which  act  of  tying  up,  never  so  skillfully  set  about,  there  is 
likewise  no  possibility  of  prospering;  but  theBehcmoth-Briareus 
snaps  your  cords  like  green  rushes.  Tie  up  ?  Alas,  Messieurs ! 
And  then,  as  for  your  chivalry  rapiers,  valor  and  wager-of-bat- 
tle,  think  one  moment,  how  can  that  answer?  The  plebeian 
heart  too  has  red  life  in  it,  which  changes  not  to  paleness  at 
glance  even  of  you ;  and  "  the  six  hundred  Breton  gentlemen 
assembled  in  arms,  for  seventy-two  hours,  in  the  Cordeliers' 
Cloister,  at  Rennes," — have  come  out  again,  zviser  than  they 
entered.  For  the  Nantes  Youth,  the  Angers  Youth,  all  Brit- 
tany was  astir ;  "  mothers,  sisters  and  sweethearts  "  shrieking 
after  them,  March!  The  Breton  Noblesse  must  even  let  the 
mad  world  have  its  way." 

In  other  Provinces,  the  Noblesse,  with  equal  goodwill,  finds 
it  better  to  stick  to  Protests,  to  well-redacted  "  Cahiers  of  griev- 
ances," and  satirical  writings  and  speeches.  Such  is  partially 
their  course  in  Provence ;  whither  indeed  Gabriel  Honore 
Riquetti  Comte  de  Mirabeau  has  rushed  down  from  Paris,  to 
speak  a  word  in  season.  In  Provence,  the  Privileged,  backed 
by  their  Aix  Parlement,  discover  that  such  novelties,  enjoined 
though  they  be  by  Royal  Edict,  tend  to  National  detriment ;  and 
what  is  still  more  indisputa1)le,  "  to  impair  the  dignity  of  the 
Noblesse."  Whereupon  Mirabeau  protesting  aloud,  this  same 
Noblesse,  amid  huge  tumult  within  doors  and  without,  flatly 
determines  to  expel  him  from  their  Assembly.  No  other 
method,  not  even  that  of  successive  duels,  would  answer  with 
him,  the  obstreperous  fierce-glaring  man.  Expelled  he  accord- 
incrlv  is. 


't>'.' 


Janvier  1789,  avant  Icur  depart  four  Rennes.  Arrctc  des  Jennes  Gens  de 
la  Villc  d' Angers,  du  4  Fcvricr  1789.  Arrcte  des  Meres,  Sa-urs.  Hpouses 
et  Amantes  des  Jennes  Citoyens  d'Angers,  du  6  Fcvrier  17S9.  (Rc- 
printod  in  Histoire  Parlemcntaire,  i.  290-3.) 

71  Hist.  Pari.  i.  287.     I)cnx  .huis  de  la  Liberie,  i.  105-128. 


io8  CARLYLE  [1789 

"  In  all  countries,  in  all  times,"  exclaims  he  departing,  "the 
Aristocrats  have  implacably  pursued  every  friend  of  the  People ; 
and  with  tenfold  implacability,  if  such  a  one  were  himself  born 
of  the  Aristocracy.  It  was  thus  that  the  last  of  the  Gracchi 
perished,  by  the  hands  of  the  Patricians.  But  he,  being  struck 
with  the  mortal  stab,  flung  dust  towards  heaven,  and  called  on 
the  Avenging  Deities;  and  from  this  dust  there  was  born 
Marius, — Marius  not  so  illustrious  for  exterminating  the  Cim- 
bri,  as  for  overturning  in  Rome  the  tyranny  of  the  Nobles. "0 
Casting  up  "which  new  curious  handful  of  dust  (through  the 
Printing-press),  to  breed  what  it  can  and  may,  Mirabeau  stalks 
forth  into  the  Third  Estate. 

That  he  now,  to  ingratiate  himself  with  this  Third  Estate, 
"  opened  a  cloth-shop  in  Marseilles,"  and  for  moments  became 
a  furnishing  tailor,  or  even  the  fable  that  he  did  so,  is  to  us  al- 
ways among  the  pleasant  memorabilities  of  this  era.  Stranger 
Clothier  never  wielded  the  ell-wand,  and  rent  webs  for  men,  or 
fractional  parts  of  men.  The  Fils  Adoptif  is  indignant  at  such 
disparaging  fable,/" — which  nevertheless  was  widely  believed  in 
those  days.9  But  indeed,  if  Achilles,  in  the  heroic  ages,  killed 
mutton,  why  should  not  Mirabeau,  in  the  unheroic  ones,  meas- 
ure broadcloth? 

More  authentic  are  his  triumph-progresses  through  that  dis- 
turbed district,  with  mob  jubilee,  flaming  torches,  "windows 
hired  for  two  louis,"  and  voluntary  guard  of  a  hundred  men.  v 
He  is  Deputy  Elect,  both  of  Aix  and  of  Marseilles ;  but  will  pre- 
fer Aix.  He  has  opened  his  far-sounding  voice,  the  depths  of 
his  far-sounding  soul;  he  can  quell  (such  virtue  is  in  a  spoken 
word)  the  pride-tumults  of  the  rich,  the  hunger-tumults  of  the 
poor ;  and  wild  multitudes  move  under  him,  as  under  the  moon 
do  billows  of  the  sea:  he  has  become  a  world-compellcr,  and 
ruler  over  men. 

One  other  incident  and  specialty  we  note ;  with  how  different 
an  interest !  It  is  of  the  Parlement  of  Paris ;  which  starts  for- 
ward, like  the  others  (only  with  less  audacity,  seeing  better  how 
it  lay),  to  nose-ring  that  Behemoth  of  a  States-General. 
Worthy  Doctor  Guillotin,  respectable  practitioner  in  Paris,  has 
drawn  up  his  little  "  Plan  of  a  Cahier  of  dolcances;" — as  had 

o  Fils  Adoptif,  v.  256.  p  Memoircs  dc  Mirabeau,  v.  307. 

q  Marat,  Ami-du-Pcuplc  Newspaper  (in  Histoire  Parlcmcntairc,  ii. 
103),  &c. 


Feb. -Apr.]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  109 

he  not,  having  the  wish  and  gift,  the  clearest  Hberty  to  do?  He 
is  getting  the  people  to  sign  it ;  whereupon  the  surly  Parlement 
summons  him  to  give  account  of  himself.  He  goes ;  but  with 
all  Paris  at  his  heels;  which  floods  the  outer  courts,  and  copi- 
ously signs  the  Cahier  even  there,  while  the  Doctor  is  giving 
account  of  himself  within !  The  Parlement  cannot  too  soon 
dismiss  Guillotin,  with  compliments ;  to  be  borne  home 
shoulder-high.^  This  respectable  Guillotin  we  hope  to  behold 
once  more,  and  perhaps  only  once ;  the  Parlement  not  even  once, 
but  let  it  be  engulfed  unseen  by  us. 

Meanwhile  such  things,  cheering  as  they  are,  tend  little  to 
cheer  the  national  creditor,  or  indeed  the  creditor  of  any  kind. 
In  the  midst  of  universal  portentous  doubt,  what  certainty  can 
seem  so  certain  as  money  in  the  purse,  and  the  wisdom  of  keep- 
ing it  there?  Trading  Speculation,  Commerce  of  all  kinds,  has 
as  far  as  possible  come  to  a  dead  pause ;  and  the  hand  of  the 
industrious  lies  idle  in  his  bosom.  Frightful  enough,  when 
now  the  rigor  of  seasons  has  also  done  its  part,  and  to  scarcity 
of  work  is  added  scarcity  of  food!  In  the  opening  spring^ 
there  come  rumors  of  forestallment,  there  come  King's  Edicts, 
Petitions  of  bakers  against  millers ;  and  at  length,  in  the  month 
of  April, — troops  of  ragged  Lackalls,  and  fierce  cries  of  starva- 
tion! These  are  the  thrice-framed  Brigands:  an  actual  exist- 
ing quotity  of  persons ;  who,  long  reflected  and  reverberated 
through  so  many  millions  of  heads,  as  in  concave  multiplying 
mirrors,  become  a  whole  Brigand  World;  and,  like  a  kind  of 
Supernatural  Machinery,  wondrously  move  the  Epos  of  the 
Revolution.  The  Brigands  are  here ;  the  Brigands  are  there ; 
the  Brigands  are  coming !  Not  otherwise  sounded  the  clang  of 
Phoebus  Apollo's  silver  bow,  scattering  pestilence  and  pale  ter- 
ror :  for  this  clang  too  was  of  the  imagination ;  preternatural ; 
and  it  too  walked  in  formless  immeasurability,  having  made 
itself  like  to  the  Night  {vvktI  €OLKco<i) ! 

But  remark  at  least,  for  the  first  time,  the  singular  empire 
of  Suspicion,  in  those  lands,  in  those  days.  If  poor  famishing 
men  shall,  prior  to  death,  gather  in  groups  and  crowds,  as  the 
poor  fieldfares  and  plovers  do  in  bitter  weather,  were  it  but  that 
they  may  chirp  mournfully  together,  and  misery  look  in  the 
eyes  of  misery;  if  famishing  men  (what  famishing  fieldfares 
cannot  do)  should  discover,  once  congregated,  that  they  need 
r  Deux  Amis  dc  la  Liberie,  i.  141. 


no 


CARLYLE  [1789 


not  die  while  food  is  in  the  land,  since  they  are  many,  and  with 
empty  wallets  have  right  hands :  in  all  this,  what  need  were  there 
of  Preternatural  Machinery  ?  To  most  people  none ;  but  not 
to  French  people,  in  a  time  of  Revolution.  These  Brigands 
(as  Turgot's  also  were,  fourteen  years  ago)  have  all  been  set 
on ;  enlisted,  though  without  tap  of  drum, — by  Aristocrats,  by 
Democrats,  by  D'Orleans,  D'Artois,  and  enemies  of  the  public 
weal.  Nay  Historians,  to  this  day,  will  prove  it  by  one  argu- 
ment ;  these  Brigands,  pretending  to  have  no  victual,  neverthe- 
less contrive  to  drink,  nay  have  been  seen  drunk.^  An  unex- 
ampled fact!  But  on  the  whole,  may  we  not  predict  that  a 
people,  with  such  a  width  of  Credulity  and  of  Incredulity  (the 
proper  union  of  which  makes  Suspicion,  and  indeed  unreason 
generally),  will  see  Shapes  enough  of  Immortals  fighting  in  its 
battle-ranks,  and  never  want  for  Epical  Machinery  ? 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  Brigands  are  clearly  got  to  Paris,  in 
considerable  multitudes:^  with  sallow  faces,  lank  hair  (the  true 
enthusiast  complexion),  with  sooty  rags;  and  also  with  large 
clubs,  which  they  smite  angrily  against  the  pavement !  These 
mingle  in  the  Election  tumult ;  would  fain  sign  Guillotin's 
Cahicr,  or  any  Cahicr  or  Petition  whatsoever,  could  they  but 
write.  Their  enthusiast  complexion,  the  smiting  of  their  sticks 
bodes  little  good  to  any  one ;  least  of  all  to  rich  master-manu- 
facturers of  the  Suburb  Saint-Antoine,  with  whose  workmen 
they  consort. 

Chapter  III. — Grown  Electric. 

But  now  also  National  Deputies  from  all  ends  of  France  are 
in  Paris,  with  their  commissions,  what  they  call  poiivoirs,  or 
powers,  in  their  pockets;  inquiring,  consulting;  looking  out  for 
lodgings  at  Versailles.  The  States-General  shall  open  there, 
if  not  on  the  First,  then  surely  on  the  Fourth  of  May ;  in  grand 
procession  and  gala.  The  Salle  dcs  Menus  is  all  new-carpen- 
tered, bedizened  for  them ;  their  very  costume  has  been  fixed : 
a  grand  controversy  which  there  was,  as  to  "  slouch-hats  or 
slouchcd-hats,"  for  the  Commons  Deputies,  has  got  as  good  as 
adjusted.  Ever  new  strangers  arrive:  loimgcrs,  miscellaneous 
persons,  officers  on  furlough, — as  the  worthy  Captain  Damp- 
martin,  whom  we  hope  to  be  acquainted  with :  these  also,  from 

.y  Lacrctcllc,  iS/nc  Sicclc,  ii.  155.  /  Besenval,  iii.  385,  &c. 


Apr.  27th-28th]        THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  m 

all  regions,  have  repaired  hither,  to  see  what  is  toward.  Our 
Paris  Committees,  of  the  Sixty  Districts,  are  busier  than  ever; 
it  is  now  too  clear,  the  Paris  Elections  will  be  late. 

On  Monday,  the  27th  day  of  April,  Astronomer  Bailly 
notices  that  the  Sieur  Reveillon  is  not  at  his  post.  The  Sieur 
Reveillon,  "  extensive  Paper  Manufacturer  of  the  Rue  Saint- 
Antoine :  "  he,  commonly  so  punctual,  is  absent  from  Electoral 
Committee ; — and  even  will  never  reappear  there.  In  those 
"  immense  Magazines  of  velvet  paper  "  has  aught  befallen  ? 
Alas,  yes !  Alas,  it  is  no  Montgolfier  rising  there  to-day ;  but 
Drudgery,  Rascality  and  the  Suburb  that  is  rising!  Was  the 
Sieur  Reveillon,  himself  once  a  journeyman,  heard  to  say  that 
"  a  journeyman  might  live  handsomely  on  fifteen  sons  a-day  ?  " 
Some  sevenpence  halfpenny ;  'tis  a  slender  sum !  Or  was 
he  only  thought,  and  believed,  to  be  heard  saying  it?  By 
this  long  chafing  and  friction,  it  would  appear,  the  Nationali 
temper  has  got  electric.  -^ 

Down  in  those  dark  dens,  in  those  dark  heads  and  hungry 
hearts,  who  knows  in  what  strange  figure  the  new  Political 
Evangel  may  have  shaped  itself ;  what  miraculous  "  Com- 
munion of  Drudges  "  may  be  getting  formed  !  Enough  :  grim 
individuals,  soon  waxing  to  grim  multitudes,  and  other  multi- 
tudes crowding  to  see,  beset  that  Paper- Warehouse ;  demon- 
strate, in  loud  ungrammatical  language  (addressed  to  the 
passions  too),  the  insufiiciency  of  sevenpence  halfpenny  a-day. 
The  City-watch  cannot  dissipate  them ;  broils  arise  and  bellow- 
ings:  Reveillon,  at  his  wits'  end,  entreats  the  Populace,  en- 
treats the  Authorities.  Besenval,  now  in  active  command. 
Commandant  of  Paris,  does,  towards  evening,  to  Reveillon's 
earnest  prayer,  send  some  thirty  Gardes  Franqaises.  These 
clear  the  street,  happily  without  firing ;  and  take  post  there 
for  the  night,  in  hope  that  it  may  be  all  over.a 

Not  so:  on  the  morrow  it  is  far  worse.  Saint-Antoine  has 
arisen  anew,  grimmer  than  ever ; — reinforced  by  tlic  unknown 
Tatterdemalion  Figures,  with  their  enthusiast  complexion  and 
large  sticks.  The  City,  through  all  streets,  is  flowing  thither- 
ward to  see :  "  two  cartloads  of  paving-stones,  that  hapj^cned 
to  pass  that  way,"  have  l)een  seized  as  a  visible  godsend. 
Another  detachment  of  Gardes  Franqaises'  must  be  sent ; 
Besenval  and  the  Colonel  taking  earnest  counsel.     Then  stii! 

a  Besenval,  iii.  385-8. 


112  CARLYLE  [1789 

another;  they  hardly,  with  bayonets  and  menace  of  bullets, 
penetrate  to  the  spot.  What  a  sight !  A  street  choked  up, 
with  lumber,  tumult  and  the  endless  press  of  men.  A  Paper- 
Warehouse  eviscerated  by  axe  and  fire :  mad  din  of  Revolt ; 
musket-volleys  responded  to  by  yells,  by  miscellaneous  mis- 
siles, by  tiles  raining  from  roof  and  window, — tiles,  execra- 
tions and  slain  men! 

The  Gardes  Franqaises  like  it  not,  but  have  to  persevere. 
All  day  it  continues,  slackening  and  rallying;  the  sun  is  sink- 
ing, and  Saint-Antoine  has  not  yielded.  The  City  flies  hither 
and  thither:  alas,  the  sound  of  that  musket-volleying  booms 
into  the  far  dining-rooms  of  the  Chaussee  d'Antin ;  alters  the 
tone  of  the  dinner-gossip  there.  Captain  Dampmartin  leaves 
his  wine ;  goes  out  with  a  friend  or  two,  to  see  the  fighting. 
Unwashed  men  growl  on  him,  with  murmurs  of  "  A  has  les 
Aristocrates  (Down  with  the  Aristocrats)  ;"  and  insult  the''  ' 
cross  of  St.  Louis !  They  elbow  him,  and  hustle  him ;  but 
do  not  pick  his  pocket ; — as  indeed  at  Reveillon's  too  there 
was  not  the  slightest  stealing.^ 

At  fall  of  night,  as  the  thing  will  not  end,  Besenval  takes 
his  resolution :  orders  out  the  Gardes  Suisses  with  two  pieces 
of  artillery.  The  Swiss  Guards  shall  proceed  thither ;  summon  " 
that  rabble  to  depart,  in  the  King's  name.  If  disobeyed,  they 
shall  load  their  artillery  with  grape-shot,  visible  to  the  general 
eye ;  shall  again  summon ;  if  again  disobeyed,  fire — and  keep 
firing  "  till  the  last  man  "  be  in  this  manner  blasted  off,  and 
the  street  clear.  With  which  spirited  resolution,  as  might 
have  been  hoped,  the  business  is  got  ended.  At  sight  of  the 
lit  matches,  of  the  foreign  red-coated  Switzers,  Saint-Antoine 
dissipates;  hastily,  in  the  shades  of  dusk.  There  is  an  en- 
cumbered street ;  there  are  from  "  four  to  five  hundred " 
dead  men.  'Unfortunate  Reveillon  has  found  shelter  in  the 
Bastille ;  does  therefrom,  safe  behind  stone  bulwarks,  issue 
plaint,  protestation,  explanation,  for  the  next  month.  Bold 
Besenval  has  thanks  from  all  the  respectable  Parisian  classes ; 
but  finds  no  special  notice  taken  of  him  at  Versailles, — a  thing 
the  man  of  true  worth  is  used  to.c 

But  how  it  originated,  this  fierce  electric  sputter  and  ex- 

b  Evenemens  qui  sc  sont  passes  sous  mcs  ycux  pendant  la  Revolution 
Franqaise,  par  A.  H.  Dampmartin  (Berlin,  1799),  i.  25-27. 
c  Besenval,  iii.  389. 


May  4th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  113 

plosion  ?  From  D'Orleans !  cries  the  Court-party :  he,  with 
his  gold,  enlisted  these  Brigands — surely  in  some  surprising 
manner,  without  sound  of  drum :  he  raked  them  in  hither, 
from  all  corners ;  to  ferment  and  take  fire ;  evil  is  his  good. 
From  the  Court !  cries  enlightened  Patriotism :  it  is  the  cursed 
gold  and  wiles  of  Aristocrats  that  enlisted  them ;  set  them 
upon  ruining  an  innocent  Sieur  Reveillon;  to  frighten  the 
faint,  and  disgust  men  with  the  career  of  Freedom. 

Besenval,  with  reluctance,  concludes  that  it  came  from 
"  the  English,  our  natural  enemies."  Or,  alas,  might  not  one 
rather  attribute  it  to  Diana  in  the  shape  of  Hunger?  To 
some  twin  Dioscuri,  Oppression  and  Revenge;  so  often 
seen  in  the  battles  of  men?  Poor  Lackalls,  all  betoiled,  be-, 
soiled,  encrusted  into  dim  defacement ; — into  whom  neverthe- 
less the  breath  of  the  Almighty  has  breathed  a  living  soul ! 
To  them  it  is  clear  only  that  eleutheromaniac  Philosophism 
has  yet  baked  no  bread ;  that  Patriotic  Committee-men  will 
level  down  to  their  own  level,  and  no  lower.  Brigands  or 
whatever  they  might  be,  it  was  bitter  earnest  with  them.  They 
bury  their  dead  with  the  title  of  Defenseiirs  de  la  Patrie,  Mar- 
tyrs of  the  good  Cause. 

Or  shall  we  say :  Insurrection  has  now  served  its  Appren- 
ticeship ;  and  this  was  its  proof-stroke,  and  no  inconclusive 
one?  Its  next  will  be  a  master-stroke;  announcing  indisput- 
able Mastership  to  a  whole  astonished  world.  Let  that  rock- 
fortress,  Tyranny's  stronghold,  which  they  name  Bastille,  or 
Building,  as  if  there  were  no  other  building, — look  to  its  guns ! 

But,  in  such  wise,  with  primary  and  secondary  Assemblies, 
and  Cahiers  of  Grievances ;  with  motions,  congregations  of  all 
kinds ;  with  much  thunder  of  froth-eloquence,  and  at  last  with 
thunder  of  platoon-musketry, — does  agitated  France  accom- 
plish its  Elections.  With  confused  winnowing  and  sifting,  in 
this  rather  tumultuous  manner,  it  has  now  (all  except  some 
remnants  of  Paris)  sifted  out  the  true  wheat-grains  of  National 
Deputies,  Twelve  Hundred  and  Fourteen  in  number;  and 
will  forthwith  open  its  States-General. 
Vol.  I.— 8 


114  CARLYLE  [1789 


Chapter  IV. — The  Procession. 

On  the  first  Saturday  of  May,  it  is  gala  at  Versailles; 
and  Monday,  fourth  of  the  month,  is  to  be  a  still  greater 
day.  The  Deputies  have  mostly  got  thither,  and  sought  out 
lodgings ;  and  are  now  successively,  in  long  well-ushered 
files,  kissing  the  hand  of  Majesty  in  the  Chateau.  Supreme 
Usher  de  Breze  does  not  give  the  highest  satisfaction :  we 
cannot  but  observe  that  in  ushering  Noblesse  or  Clergy  into 
the  anointed  Presence,  he  liberally  opens  both  his  folding- 
doors  ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  for  members  of  the  Third 
Estate  opens  only  one !  However,  there  is  room  to  enter ; 
Majesty  has  smiles  for  all. 

The  good  Louis  welcomes  his  Honorable  Members,  with 
smiles  of  hope.  He  has  prepared  for  them  the  Hall  of  Menus, 
the  largest  near  him ;  and  often  surveyed  the  workmen  as 
they  went  on.  A  spacious  Hall :  with  raised  platform  for 
Throne,  Court  and  Blood-royal ;  space  for  six  hundred  Com- 
mons Deputies  in  front;  for  half  as  many  Clergy  on  this 
hand,  and  half  as  many  Noblesse  on  that.  It  has  lofty  gal- 
leries ;  wherefrom  dames  of  honor,  splendent  in  ga/^e  d'or ; 
foreign  Diplomacies,  and  other  gilt-edged  white-frilled  indi- 
viduals, to  the  number  of  two  thousand — may  sit  and  look. 
Broad  passages  flow  through  it ;  and,  outside  the  inner  wall, 
all  round  it.  There  are  committee-rooms,  guard-rooms,  rob- 
ing-rooms :  really  a  noble  Hall ;  where  upholstery,  aided  by 
the  subject  fine-arts,  has  done  its  best;  and  crimson  tasselled 
cloths,  and  emblematic  flcurs-de-lys  are  not  wanting. 

The  Hall  is  ready :  the  very  costume,  as  we  said,  has  been 
settled ;  and  the  Commons  are  not  to  wear  that  hated  slouch- 
hat  (chapeau  clahaiid),  but  one  not  quite  so  slouched  {chapeau 
rahattu).  As  for  their  manner  of  ivorking,  when  all  dressed:, 
for  their  "  voting  by  head  or  by  order  "  and  the  rest — this, 
which  it  were  perhaps  still  time  to  settle,  and  in  few  hours 
will  be  no  longer  time,  remains  unsettled ;  hangs  dubious  in 
the  breast  of  Twelve  Hundred  men. 

But  now  finally  the  Sun,  on  Monday  the  4th  of  May,  has 
risen ; — unconcerned,  as  if  it  were  no  special  day.  And  yet, 
as  his  first  rays  could  strike  music  from  the  Memnon's  Statue 
on  the  Nile  what  tones  were  these,  so  thrilling,  tremulous  of 


May  4th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  115 

preparation  and  foreboding,  which  he  awoke  in  every  bosom  at 
Versailles !  Huge  Paris,  in  all  conceivable  and  inconceivable 
vehicles,  is  pouring  itself  forth ;  from  each  Town  and  Village 
come  subsidiary  rills :  Versailles  is  a  very  sea  of  men.  But 
above  all,  from  the  Church  of  St.  Louis  to  the  Church  of 
Notre-Dame:  one  vast  suspended-billow  of  Life, — with  spray 
scattered  even  to  the  chimney-tops  For  on  chimney-tops  too, 
as  over  the  roofs,  and  up  thitherwards  on  every  lamp-iron, 
sign-post,  breakneck  coign  of  vantage,  sits  patriotic  Courage ; 
and  every  window  bursts  with  patriotic  Beauty :  for  the  Depu- 
ties are  gathering  at  St.  Louis  Church ;  to  march  in  procession 
to  Notre-Dame,  and  hear  sermon. 

Yes,  friends,  ye  may  sit  and  look :  bodily  or  in  thought, 
all  France,  and  all  Europe,  may  sit  and  look ;  for  it  is  a  day 
like  few  others.  Oh,  one  might  weep  like  Xerxes : — So  many 
serried  rows  sit  perched  there ;  like  winged  creatures,  alighted 
out  of  Heaven :  all  these,  and  so  many  more  that  follow  them, 
shall  have  wholly  fled  aloft  again,  vanishing  into  the  blue 
Deep;  and  the  memory  of  this  day  shall  be  fresh.  It  is 
,.  the  baptism-day  of  Democracy ;  sick  Time  has  given  it  birth, 
the  numbered  months  being  run.  The  extreme-unction  day 
of  Feudalism !  A  superannuated  System  of  Society,  decrepit 
with  toils  (for  has  it  not  done  much;  produced  you,  and 
what  ye  have  and  know !) — and  with  thefts  and  brawls,  named 
glorious-victories ;  and  with  profligacies,  sensualities,  and  on 
the  whole  with  dotage  and  senility — is  now  to  die:  and  so, 
^  with  death-throes  and  birth-throes,  a  new  one  is  to  be  born. 
What  a  work,  O  Earth  and  Heavens,  what  a  work!  Battles 
and  bloodshed,  September  Massacres,  Bridges  of  Lodi,  re- 
treats of  Moscow,  Waterloos,  Pcterloos,  Tenpound  Fran- 
chises, Tarbarrels  and  Guillotines ; and  from  this  present 

date,  if  one  might  prophesy,  some  two  centuries  of  it  still 
to  fight !  Two  centuries  ;  hardly  less  ;  before  Democracy  go 
through  its  due,  most  baleful,  stages  of  Q/zac/eocracy ;  and 
a  pestilential  World  be  burnt  up,  and  have  begun  to  grow 
green  and  young  again. 

Rejoice  nevertheless,  ye  Versailles  multitudes ;  to  you,  from 
whom  all  this  is  hid,  the  glorious  end  of  it  is  visible.  This 
day,  sentence  of  death  is  pronounced  on  Shams ;  judgment 
of  resuscitation,  were  it  but  afar  off,  is  pronounced  on  Reali- 
ties.    This  day  it  is  declared  aloud,  as  with  a  Doom-trumpet, 


Ii6  CARLYLE  [1789 

that  a  Lie  is  unbelievable.  Believe  that,  stand  by  that,  if  more 
there  be  not;  and  let  what  thing  or  things  soever  will  follow 
it  follow.  "  Ye  can  no  other ;  God  be  your  help ! "  So 
spake  a  greater  than  any  of  you ;  opening  his  Chapter  of 
World-History. 

Behold,  however !  The  doors  of  St.  Louis  Church  flung 
wide ;  and  the  Procession  of  Processions  advancing  towards 
Notre-Dame !  Shouts  rend  the  air ;  one  shout,  at  which  Gre- 
cian birds  might  drop  dead.  It  is  indeed  a  stately,  solemn 
sight.  The  Elected  of  France,  and  then  the  Court  of  France ; 
they  are  marshalled  and  march  there,  all  in  prescribed  place 
and  costume.  Our  Commons  "  in  plain  black  mantle  and 
white  cravat ;"  Noblesse,  in  gold-worked,  bright-dyed  cloaks 
of  velvet,  resplendent,  rustling  with  laces,  waving  with  plumes ; 
the  Clergy  in  rochet,  alb,  or  other  best  pontiiicalibns:  lastly 
comes  the  King  himself,  and  King's  Household,  also  in  their 
brightest  blaze  of  pomp, — their  brightest  and  final  one.  Some  •)  , 
Fourteen  Hundred  Men  blown  together  from  all  winds,  on  -^ 
the  deepest  errand. 

Yes,  in  that  silent  marching  mass  there  lies  Futurity 
enough.  No  symbolic  Ark,  like  the  old  Hebrews,  do  these 
men  bear :  yet  with  them  too  is  a  Covenant ;  they  too  pre- 
side at  a  new  Era  in  the  History  of  Men.  The  whole  Future 
is  there,  and  Destiny  dim-brooding  over  it ;  in  the  hearts  and 
unshaped  thoughts  of  these  men,  it  lies  illegible,  inevitable. 
Singular  to  think :  they  have  it  in  them ;  yet  not  they,  not 
mortal,  only  the  Eye  above  can  read  it, — as  it  shall  unfold 
itself,  in  fire  and  thunder,  of  siege  and  field-artillery;  in  the 
rustling  of  battle-banners,  the  tramp  of  hosts,  in  the  glow  of 
burning  cities,  the  shriek  of  strangled  nations !  Such  things  lie 
hidden,  safe-wrapt  in  this  Fourth  day  of  May ; — say  rather, 
had  lain  in  some  other  unknown  day,  of  which  this  latter  is 
the  public  fruit  and  outcome.  As  indeed  what  wonders  lie  in  -, 
every  Day, — had  we  the  sight,  as  happily  we  have  not,  to 
decipher  it:  for  is  not  every  meanest  Day  "  the  conflux  of  two  J 
Eternities !  " 

Meanwhile,  suppose  we  too,  good  Reader,  should,  as  now 
without  miracle  Muse  Clio  enables  us, — take  our  station  also 
on  some  coign  of  vantage ;  and  glance  momentarily  over  this 
Procession,  and  this  Life-sea ;    with  far  other  eyes  than  the 


May4thJ  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  117 

rest  do,  namely  with  prophetic?  We  can  mount,  and  stand 
there,  without  fear  of  falUng. 

As  for  the  Life-sea,  or  onlooking  unnumbered  Multitude, 
it  is  unfortunately  ail-too  dim.  Yet  as  we  gaze  fixedly,  do 
not  nameless  Figures  not  a  few,  which  shall  not  always  be 
nameless,  disclose  themselves ;  visible  or  presumable  there ! 
Young  Baroness  de  Stael — she  evidently  looks  from  a  win- 
dow ;  among  older  honorable  women.a  Her  father  is  Minis- 
ter, and  one  of  the  gala  personages ;  to  his  own  eyes  the  chief 
one.  Young  spiritual  Amazon,  thy  rest  is  not  there ;  nor 
thy  loved  Father's:  "as  Malebranche  saw  all  things  in  God, 
so  M.  Necker  sees  all  things  in  Necker  " — a  theorem  that  will 
not  hold. 

But  where  is  the  brown-locked,  light-behaved,  fire-hearted 
Demoiselle  Theroigne?  Brown  eloquent  Beauty;  who,  with 
thy  winged  words  and  glances,  shalt  thrill  rough  bosoms, 
whole  steel  battalions,  and  persuade  an  Austrian  Kaiser — 
pike  and  helm  lie  provided  for  thee  in  due  season ;  and,  alas, 
also  strait-waistcoat  and  long  lodging  in  the  Saltpetriere ! 
Better  hadst  thou  staid  in  native  Luxemburg,  and  been  the 
mother  of  some  brave  man's  children :  but  it  was  not  thy 
task,  it  was  not  thy  lot. 

Of  the  rougher  sex  how,  without  tongue,  or  hundred 
tongues,  of  iron,  enumerate  the  notabilities !  Has  not  Marquis 
Valadi  hastily  quitted  his  Quaker  broadbrim ;  his  Pythagorean 
Greek  in  Wapping,  and  the  city  of  Glasgow  ?&  De  Morande 
from  his  Courricr  dc  I'Enrope;  Linguet  from  his  Annalcs,  they 
looked  eager  through  the  London  fog,  and  became  Ex-Editors. 
— that  they  might  feed  the  guillotine,  and  have  their  due.  Does 
Louvet  (of  Faublas)  stand  a-tiptoe?  And  Brissot,  hight  De 
Warville,  friend  of  the  Blacks?  He,  with  Marquis  Condorcet, 
and  Claviere  the  Genevese  "  have  created  the  Moniteur  News- 
paper," or  are  about  creating  it.  Able  Editors  must  give  ac- 
count of  such  a  day. 

Or  seest  thou  any  distinctness,  low  down  probably,  not  in 
places  of  honor,  a  Stanislas  Maillard,  riding-tipstaff  (huissicr 
a  chcval)  of  the  Chatelet ;  one  of  the  shiftiest  of  men  ?  A  Cap- 
tain Hulin  of  Geneva,  Captain  Elie  of  the  Queen's  Regiment ; 

a  Madame  dc  Stacl,  Considerations  siir  la  Revolution  Fraitiaisc  (Lon- 
don,  1818),  i.   114-191. 
b  Founders  of  the  French  Republic  (London,  1798),  §  Valadi. 


ii8  CARLYLE  [1789 

both  with  an  air  of  half-pay?  Jourdan,  with  tile-colored 
whiskers,  not  yet  with  tile-beard;  an  unjust  dealer  in  mules? 
He  shall  be,  in  few  months,  Jourdan  the  Headsman,  and  have 
other  work. 

Surely  also,  in  some  place  not  of  honor,  stands  or  sprawls  up 
querulous,  that  he  too,  though  short,  may  see, — one  squalidest 
bleared  mortal,  redolent  of  soot  and  horse-drugs :  Jean  Paul 
Marat  of  Neuchatel !     O  Marat,  Renovator  of  Human  Science, 
Lecturer  on  Optics ;  O  thou  remarkablest  Horseleech,  once  in  vy 
D'Artois'  Stables, — as  thy  bleared  soul  looks  forth,  through 
thy  bleared,  dull-acrid,  woe-stricken  face, what  sees  it  in  all  this?' 
Any  faintest  light  of  hope;  like  dayspring  after  Nova-Zembla' 
night?     Or  is  it  but  blue  sulphur-light,  and  spectres;  woe,  sus-^ 
picion,  revenge  without  end  ? 

Of  Draper  Lecointre,  how  he  shut  his  cloth-shop  hard  by, 
and  stepped  forth,  one  need  hardly  speak.  Nor  of  Santerre,  the 
sonorous  Brewer  from  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine.  Two  other 
Figures,  and  only  two,  we  signalize  there.  The  huge,  brawny 
Figure ;  through  whose  black  brows,  and  rude  flattened  face 
(figure  eerasce),  there  looks  a  waste  energy  as  of  Hercules  not 
yet  furibund, — he  is  an  esurient,  unprovided  Advocate ;  Danton  ,^, 
by  name :  him  mark.  Then  that  other,  his  slight-built  comrade 
and  craft-brother ;  he  with  the  long  curling  locks ;  with  the  face 
of  dingy  blackguardism,  wondrously  irradiated  with  genius,  as 
if  a  naphtha-lamp  burnt  within  it :  that  Figure  is  Camille  Des- 
moulins.  A  fellow  of  infinite  shrewdness,  wit,  nay  humor;  one 
V  of  the  sprightliest  clearest  souls  in  all  these  millions.  Thou 
poor  Camille,  say  of  thee  what  they  may,  it  were  but  falsehood 
to  pretend  one  did  not  almost  love  thee,  thou  headlong  lightly- 
sparkling  man !  But  the  brawny,  not  yet  furibund  Figure,  we 
say,  is  Jacques  Danton ;  a  name  that  shall  be  "  tolerably  known 
in  the  Revolution."  He  is  President  of  the  electoral  Cordeliers 
District  at  Paris,  or  about  to  be  it ;  and  shall  open  his  lungs  of 
brass. 

We  dwell  no  longer  on  the  mixed  shouting  Multitude :  for 
now,  behold,  the  Commons  Deputies  are  at  hand ! 

Which  of  these  Six  Hundred  individuals,  in  plain  white 
cravat,  that  have  come  up  to  regenerate  France,  might  one 
guess  would  become  their  king?  For  a  king  or  leader  they, 
as  all  bodies  of  men,  must  have:  be  their  work  what  it  may, 
there  is  one  man  there  who,  by  character,  faculty,  position,  is 


\ 


May4thl  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  119 

fittest  of  all  to  do  it ;  that  man,  as  future  not  yet  elected  king, 
walks  there  among  the  rest.  He  with  the  thick  black  locks,  will 
it  be?  With  the  hure,  as  himself  calls  it,  or  black  hoar's-head, 
fit  to  be  ''shaken"  as  a  senatorial  portent?  Through  whose" 
shaggy  beetle-brows,  and  rough-hewn,  seamed,  carbuncled  face, 
there  look  natural  ugliness,  small-pox,  incontinence,  bank- 
ruptcy,— and  burning  fire  of  genius;  like  comet-fire  glaring 
fuliginous  through  murkiest  confusions  ?  It  is  Gabriel  Honore 
Riquetti  de  Mirabeau,  the  world-compeller ;  man-ruling  Deputy 
of  Aix !  According  to  the  Baroness  de  Stael,  he  steps  proudly 
along,  though  looked  at  askance  here;  and  shakes  his  black 
cheveliire,  or  lion's-mane;  as  if  prophetic  of  great  deeds. 

Yes,  Reader,  that  is  the  Type-Frenchman  of  this  epoch;  as 
Voltaire  was  of  the  last.  He  is  French  in  his  aspirations,  ac- 
quisitions, in  his  virtues,  in  his  vices ;  perhaps  more  French  than 
any  other  man  ; — and  intrinsically  such  a  mass  of  manhood  too. 
Mark  him  well.  The  National  Assembly  were  all  different 
without  that  one ;  nay,  he  might  say  with  the  old  Despot :  "  The 
National  Assembly?  I  am  that." 

Of  a  southern  climate,  of  wild  southern  blood :  for  the  Ri- 
quettis,  or  Arrighettis,  had  to  fly  from  Florence  and  the  Guelfs, 
long  centuries  ago,  and  settled  in  Provence ;  where  from  genera- 
tion to  generation  they  have  ever  approved  themselves  a  peculiar 
kindred:  irascible,  indomitable,  sharp-cutting,  true,  Hke  the 
steel  they  wore ;  of  an  intensity  and  activity  that  sometimes 
verged  towards  madness,  yet  did  not  reach  it.  One  ancient 
Riquetti,  in  mad  fulfillment  of  a  mad  vow,  chains  two  Mount- 
ains together ;  and  the  chain,  with  its  "  iron  star  of  five  rays," 
is  still  to  be  seen.  May  not  a  modern  Riquetti  ?«jchain  so  much, 
and  set  it  drifting, — which  also  shall  be  seen? 

Destiny  has  work  for  that  swart  burly-headed  Mirabeau;-^ 
Destiny  has  watched  over  him,  prepared  him  from  afar.  Did 
not  his  Grandfather,  stout  Col-d' Argent  (Silver-Stock,  so  they 
named  him),  shattered  and  slashed  by  seven-and-twenty 
wounds  in  one  fell  day,  lie  sunk  together  on  the  Bridge  at  Ca- 
sano ;  while  Prince  Eugene's  cavalry  galloped  and  regalloped 
over  him, — only  the  flying  sergeant  had  thrown  a  camp-kettle 
over  that  loved  head  ;  and  \'end6me,  dropping  his  spyglass, 
moaned  out,  "  Mirabeau  is  dead,  then !  "  Nevertheless  he  was 
not  dead:  he  awoke  to  breath,  and  miraculous  surgery; — for 
Gabriel  was  yet  to  be.     With  his  silver  stock  he  kept  his  scarred 


I20  CARLYLE  [1789 

head  erect,  through  long  years;  and  wedded;  and  produced 
tough  Marquis  Victor,  the  Friend  of  Men.  Whereby  at  last  in 
the  appointed  year  1749,  this  long-expected  rough-hewn 
Gabriel  Honore  did  likewise  see  the  light :  roughest  lion's- 
whelp  ever  littered  of  that  rough  breed.  How  the  old  lion  (for 
our  old  Marquis  too  was  lion-like,  most  unconquerable,  kingly- 
genial,  most  perverse)  gazed  wondering  on  his  offspring;  and 
determined  to  train  him  as  no  lion  had  yet  been !  It  is  in  vain, 
O  Marquis !  This  cub,  though  thou  slay  him  and  flay  him,  will 
not  learn  to  draw  in  dogcart  of  Political  Economy,  and  be  a 
Friend  of  Men;  he  will  not  be  Thou,  but  must  and  will  be  Him- 
self, another  than  Thou.  Divorce  lawsuits,  "  whole  family  save 
one  in  prison,  and  three-score  Lettres-de-Caehet "  for  thy  own 
sole  use,  do  but  astonish  the  world. 

Our  luckless  Gabriel,  sinned  against  and  sinning,  has  been 
in  the  Isle  of  Rhe,  and  heard  the  Atlantic  from  his  tower ;  in 
the  Castle  of  If,  and  heard  the  Mediterranean  at  Marseilles. 
He  has  been  in  the  Fortress  of  Joux ;  and  forty-two  months, 
with  hardly  clothing  to  his  back,  in  the  Dungeon  of  Vincennes ; 
all  by  Lettre-de-Cachet,  from  his  lion  father.  He  has  been  in 
Pontarlier  Jails  (self-constituted  prisoner)  ;  was  noticed  ford- 
ing estuaries  of  the  sea  (at  low  water),  in  flight  from  the  face 
of  men.  He  has  pleaded  before  Aix  Parlements  (to  get  back 
his  wife)  ;  the  public  gathering  on  roofs,  to  see  since  they  could 
not  hear:  "the  clatter-teeth  (claque-dents)  \''  snarls  singular 
old  Mirabeau ;  discerning  in  such  admired  forensic  eloquence 
nothing  but  two  clattering  jaw-bones,  and  a  head  vacant, 
sonorous,  of  the  drum  species. 

But  as  for  Gabriel  Honore,  in  these  strange  wayfarings,  what 
has  he  not  seen  and  tried !  From  drill-sergeants,  to  prime- 
ministers,  to  foreign  and  domestic  booksellers,  all  manner  of 
men  he  has  seen.  All  manner  of  men  he  has  gained ;  for  at 
bottom  it  is  a  social,  loving  heart,  that  wild  unconquerable  one: 
— more  especially  all  manner  of  women.  From  the  Archer's 
Daughter  at  Saints  to  that  fair  young  Sophie  Madame  Monnier, 
whom  he  could  not  but  "  steal,"  and  be  beheaded  for — in  effigy ! 
For  indeed  hardly  since  the  Arabian  Prophet  lay  dead  to  Ali's 
admiration,  was  there  seen  such  a  Love-hero,  with  the  strength 
of  thirty  men.  In  War,  again,  he  has  helped  to  conquer 
Corsica ;  fought  duels,  irregular  brawls ;  horsewhipped 
calumnious  barons.     In  Literature,  he  has  written  on  Despot- 


May  4th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  121 

ism,  on  Lettres-dc-Cachet;  Erotics  Sapphic-Werterean,  Ob- 
scenities, Profanities ;  Books  on  the  Prussian  Monarchy,  on 
Cagliostro,  on  Calonne,  on  the  Water-Coinpanies  of  Paris: — 
each  Book  comparable,  we  will  say,  to  a  bituminous  alarum-fire ; 
huge,  smoky,  sudden !  The  firepan,  the  kindling,  the  bitumen 
were  his  own ;  but  the  lumber,  of  rags,  old  wood  and  nameless 
combustible  rubbish  (for  all  is  fuel  to  him),  was  gathered  from 
■hucksters,  and  ass-panniers,  of  every  description  under  heaven. 
Whereby,  indeed,  hucksters  enough  have  been  heard  to  ex- 
claim:  Out  upon  it,  the  fire  is  mine! 

Nay,  consider  it  more  generally,  seldom  had  man  such  a 
talent  for  borrowing.  The  idea,  the  faculty  of  another  man  he 
can  make  his ;  the  man  himself  he  can  make  his.  "  All  reflex 
and  echo  {tout  de  rcHct  et  de  reverbcre)  !  "  snarls  old  Mirabeau, 
who  can  see,  but  will  not.  Crabbed  old  Friend  of  Men !  it  is 
his  sociality,  his  aggregative  nature ;  and  will  now  be  the  quality 
of  qualities  for  him.  In  that  forty-years  "  struggle  against 
despotism,"  he  has  gained  the  glorious  faculty  of  self-help,  and 
yet  not  lost  the  glorious  natural  gift  of  fellowship,  of  being 
helped.  Rare  union :  this  man  can  live  self-sufficing — yet  lives  ~-i 
also  in  the  life  of  other  men ;  can  make  men  love  him,  work  with  I 
him ;  a  born  king  of  men !  ~J 

F  But  consider  further  how,  as  the  old  Marquis  still  snarls,  he 
I  has  "  made  away  with  (hume,  swallowed,  snuffed-up)  all 
Formulas;  " — a  fact  which,  if  we  meditate  it,  will  in  these  days 
mean  much.  This  is  no  man  of  system,  then ;  he  is  only  a  man 
of  instincts  and  insights.  A  man  nevertheless  who  will  glare -^ 
fiercely  on  any  object ;  and  see  through  it,  and  conquer  it ;  for 
he  has  intellect,  he  has  will,  force  beyond  other  men.  A  man 
not  with  logic-spectacles;  but  with  an  eye!  Unhappily  with- 
out Decalogue,  moral  Code  or  Theorem  of  any  fixed  sort ;  yet 
not  without  a  strong  living  Soul  in  him,  and  Sincerity  there: 
a  Reality,  not  an  artificiality,  not  a  Sham !  And  so  he,  having 
struggled  "  forty  years  against  despotism,"  and  "  made  away 
witii  all  formulas,"  shall  now  become  the  spokesman  of  a  Na- 
tion bent  to  do  the  same.  For  is  it  not  precisely  the  struggle 
of  France  also  to  cast  off  despotism ;  to  make  away  with  her 
old  formulas, — having  found  them  naught,  worn  out,  far  from 
the  reality  ?  She  will  make  away  with  such  formulas ; — and 
even  go  hare,  if  need  be,  till  she  have  found  new  ones. 

Toward  such  work,  in  such  manner,  marches  he,  this  singu- 


122 


CARLYLE  [1789 


lar  Riquetti  Mirabeau.  In  fiery  rough  figure,  with  black 
Samson-locks  under  the  slouch-hat,  he  steps  along  there.  A 
fiery  fuliginous  mass,  which  could  not  be  choked  and  smothered, 
but  would  fill  all  France  with  smoke.  And  now  it  has  got  air; 
it  will  burn  its  whole  substance,  its  whole  smoke-atmosphere 
too,  and  fill  all  France  with  flame.  Strange  lot !  Forty  years 
of  that  smouldering,  with  foul  fire-damp  and  vapor  enough ; 
then  victory  over  that ; — and  like  a  burning  mountain  he  blazes 
heaven-high ;  and,  for  twenty-three  resplendent  months,  pours 
out,  in  flame  and  molten  fire-torrents,  all  that  is  in  him,  the 
Pharos  and  Wonder-sign  of  an  amazed  Europe ; — and  then 
lies  hollow,  cold  forever !  Pass  on,  thou  questionable  Gabriel 
Honore,  the  greatest  of  them  all :  in  the  whole  National ! 
Deputies,  in  the  whole  Nation,  there  is  none  like  and  none  sec-  • 
end  to  thee. 

But  now  if  Mirabeau  is  the  greatest,  who  of  these  Six  Hun- 
dred may  be  the  meanest?  Shall  we  say,  that  anxious,  slight, 
ineffectual-looking  man,  under  thirty,  in  spectacles ;  his  eyes 
(were  the  glasses  off)  troubled,  careful;  with  upturned  face, 
snuffing  dimly  the  uncertain  future  time  ;  complexion  of  a  multi- 
plex atrabiliar  color,  the  final  shade  of  which  may  be  the  pale 
sea-grecn.a  That  greenish-colored  {vcrdatre)  individual  is  an -1  ,y^ 
Advocate  of  x^rras ;  his  name  is  Maximilicn  Robespierre.  The^  "t^ 
son  of  an  Advocate ;  his  father  founded  mason-lodges  under 
Charles  Edward,  the  English  Prince  or  Pretender.  Maxi- 
milicn the  first-born  was  thriftily  educated ;  he  had  brisk  Ca- 
mille  Desmoulins  for  schoolmate  in  the  College  of  Louis  le 
Grand,  at  Paris.  But  he  begged  our  famed  Necklace-Cardinal, 
Rohan,  the  patron,  to  let  him  depart  thence,  and  resign  in  favor 
of  a  younger  brother.  The  strict-minded  Max  departed  ;  home 
to  paternal  Arras ;  and  even  had  a  Law-case  there  and  pleaded, 
not  unsuccessfully,  "  in  favor  of  the  first  Franklin  thunder- 
rod."  With  a  strict  painful  mind,  an  understanding  small  but^ 
clear  and  ready,  he  grew  in  favor  with  official  persons,  who 
could  foresee  in  him  an  excellent  man  of  business,  happily 
quite  free  from  genius.  The  Bishop,  therefore,  taking  counsel, 
appoints  him  Judge  of  his  diocese ;  and  he  faithfully  does  justice 
to  the  people :  till  behold,  one  day,  a  culprit  comes  whose  crime 
merits  hanging;  and  the  strict-minded  Max  must  abdicate,  for 
his  conscience  will  not  permit  the  dooming  of  any  son  of  Adam 
a  See  De  Stael,  Considerations  (ii.  142)  ;  Barbaroux,  Memoires,  &c. 


May  4th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  123 

to  die.  A  strict-minded,  strait-laced  man !  A  man  unfit  for 
Revolutions?  Whose  small  soul,  transparent  wholesome-look- 
ing as  small-ale,  could  by  no  chance  ferment  into  virulent 
alegar, — the  mother  of  ever  new  alegar ;  till  all  France  were 
grown  acetous  virulent?     We  shall  see. 

Between  which  two  extremes  of  grandest  and  meanest,  so 
many  grand  and  mean  roll  on,  toward  their  several  destinies, 
in  that  Procession !  There  is  Ca::alcs,  the  learned  young  sol- 
dier ;  who  shall  become  the  eloquent  orator  of  Royalism,  and 
earn  the  shadow  of  name.  Experienced  Mounicr,  experienced 
Maloiiet;  whose  Presidential  Parlementary  experience  the 
stream  of  things  shall  soon  leave  stranded.  A  Pction  has  left 
his  gown  and  briefs  at  Chartres  for  a  stormier  sort  of  pleading ; 
has  not  forgotten  his  violin,  being  fond  of  music.  His  hair  is 
grizzled,  though  he  is  still  young:  convictions,  beliefs  placid- 
unalterable  are  in  that  man ;  not  hindmost  of  them,  belief  in 
himself.  A  Protestant-clerical  Rahaut-St.-Eiienne,  a  slender 
young  eloquent  and  vehement  Barnave,  will  help  to  regenerate 
France.  There  are  so  many  of  them  young.  Till  thirty  the 
Spartans  did  not  suffer  a  man  to  marry:  but  how  many  men 
here  under  thirty ;  coming  to  produce  not  one  sufficient  citizen, 
but  a  nation  and  a  world  of  such !  The  old  to  heal  up  rents ; 
the  young  to  remove  rubbish : — which  latter,  is  it  not,  indeed, 
the  task  here? 

Dim,  formless  from  this  distance,  yet  authentically  there,  thou 
noticest  the  Deputies  from  Nantes?  To  us  mere  clothes- 
screens,  with  slouch-hat  and  cloak,  but  bearing  in  their  pocket 
a  Cahier  of  dolcances  with  this  singular  clause,  and  more  such, 
in  it :  "  That  the  master  wigmakers  of  Nantes  be  not  troubled 
with  new  guild-brethren,  the  actually  existing  number  of 
ninety-two  being  more  than  sufficient !  "^  The  Rennes  people 
have  elected  Farmer  Gerard,  "  a  man  of  natural  sense  and  rec- 
titude, without  any  learning."  He  walks  there,  with  solid  step ; 
unique,  "  in  his  rustic  farmer-clothes ;  "  which  he  will  wear  al- 
ways ;  careless  of  short-cloaks  and  costumes.  The  name 
Gerard,  or  "  Pcre  Gerard,  Father  Gerard,"  as  they  please  to  call 
him,  will  fly  far;  borne  about  in  endless  banter;  in  Royalist 
satires,  in  Republican  didactic  Almanacks. c     As  for  the  man 

h  Histoire  Parlcmcntaire,  i.  335. 

c  Actcs  dcs  Apotrcs  (by  Pcllicr  and  others);  Ahnauach  du  Ptrc 
Gerard  (by  Collot  d'Hcrbois),  &c.  &c. 


124  CARLYLE  [1789 

Gerard,  being  asked  once,  what  he  did,  after  trial  of  it,  candidly 
think  of  this  Parlementary  work, — "  I  think,"  answered  he, 
"  that  there  are  a  good  many  scoundrels  among  us."  So  walks 
Father  Gerard ;  solid  in  his  thick  shoes,  whithersoever  bound. 

And  worthy  Doctor  Guillotin,  whom  we  hoped  to  behold  one 
other  time  ?  If  not  here,  the  Doctor  should  be  here,  and  we  see 
him  with  the  eye  of  prophecy :  for  indeed  the  Parisian  Deputies 
are  all  a  little  late.  Singular  Guillotin,  respectable  practitioner : 
doomed  by  a  satiric  destiny  to  the  strangest  immortal  glory  that 
ever  kept  obscured  mortal  from  his  resting-place,  the  bosom  of 
oblivion !  Guillotin  can  improve  the  ventilation  of  the  Hall ; 
in  all  cases  of  medical  police  and  hygiene  be  a  present  aid :  but, 
greater  far,  he  can  produce  his  "  Report  on  the  Penal  Code ;  "  I  -iil- 
and  reveal  therein  a  cunningly  devised  Beheading  Machine,  i. 
which  shall  become  famous  and  world-famous.  This  is  the 
product  of  Guillotin's  endeavors,  gained  not  without  meditation 
and  reading;  which  product  popular  gratitude  or  levity 
christens  by  a  feminine  derivative  name,  as  if  it  were  his  daugh- 
ter: La  Guillotine!  "With  my  machine,  Messieurs,  I  whisk 
off  your  head  {vous  fais  sauter  la  tcte)  in  a  twinkling,  and  you 
have  no  pain;" — whereat  they  all  laugh. rf  Unfortunate 
Doctor !  For  two-and-twenty  years  he,  unguillotined,  shall  hear 
nothing  but  guillotine,  see  nothing  but  guillotine ;  then  dying, 
shall  through  long  centuries  wander,  as  it  were,  a  disconsolate 
ghost,  on  the  wrong  side  of  Styx  and  Lethe ;  his  name  like  to 
outlive  Caesar's. 

See  Bailly,  likewise  of  Paris,  time-honored  Historian  of  As- 
tronomy Ancient  and  Modern.  Poor  Bailly,  how  thy  serenely 
beautiful  Philosophising,  with  its  soft  moonshiny  clearness  and 
thinness,  ends  in  foul  thick  confusion — of  Presidency,  Mayor- 
ship, diplomatic  Officiality,  rabid  Triviality,  and  the  throat  of 
everlasting  Darkncsss !  Far  was  it  to  descend  from  the 
heavenly  Galaxy  to  the  Drapeau  Rouge:  beside  that  fatal  dung- 
heap,  on  that  last  hell-day,  thou  must  "  tremble,"  though  only 
with  cold,  "  dc  froid."  Speculation  is  not  practice:  to  be  weak 
is  not  so  miserable;  but  to  be  weaker  than  our  task.  Woe  the 
day  when  they  mounted  thee,  a  peaceable  pedestrian,  on  that 
wild  Hippogriff  of  a  Democracy;  which,  spurning  the  firm 
earth,  nay  lashing  at  the  very  stars,  no  yet  known  Astolpho 
could  have  ridden! 

d  Moniteur  Newspaper,  of  December  ist,  1789  (in  Histoire  Parlemen- 
taire) . 


M 


May  4th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  125 

r  In  the  Commons  Deputies  there  are  Merchants,  Artists,  Men 
of  Letters;  three  hundred  and  seventy-four  Lawyers ;c  and 
!  at  least  one  Clergyman:  the  Abhc  Sieycs.  Him  also  Paris 
l  sends,  among  its  twenty.  Behold  him,  the  light  thin  man ;  cold, 
but  elastic,  wiry ;  instinct  with  the  pride  of  Logic ;  passionless, 
or  with  but  one  passion,  that  of  self-conceit.  If  indeed  that  can 
be  called  a  passion,  which,  in  its  independent  concentrated 
greatness,  seems  to  have  soared  into  transcendentalism ;  and 
to  sit  there  with  a  kind  of  godlike  indifference,  and  look  down  on 
passion !  He  is  the  man,  and  wisdom  shall  die  with  him.  This 
is  the  Sieyes  who  shall  be  System-builder,  Constitution-builder 
General;  and  build  Constitutions  (as  many  as  wanted)  sky- 
high, — which  shall  all  unfortunately  fall  before  he  get  the  scaf- 
folding away.  "  La  Politique,"  said  he  to  Dumont,  "  Polity 
is  a  science  I  think  I  have  completed  {achevee.yf  What  things, 
O  Sieyes,  with  thy  clear  assiduous  eyes,  art  thou  to  see !  But 
were  it  not  curious  to  know  how  Sieyes,  now  in  these  days  ( for 
he  is  said  to  be  still  alive  )^  looks  out  on  all  that  Constitution 
masonry,  through  the  rheumy  soberness  of  extreme  age? 
Might  we  hope,  still  with  the  old  irrefragable  transcendental- 
ism? The  victorious  cause  pleased  the  gods,  the  vanquished 
one  pleased  Sieyes  (victa  Catoni). 

Thus,  however,  amid  skyrending  vivats  and  blessings  from 
every  heart,  has  the  Procession  of  the  Commons  Deputies 
rolled  by. 

Next  follow  the  Noblesse,  and  next  the  Clergy;  concerning 
both  of  whom  it  might  be  asked,  What  they  specially  have  come 
for?  Specially,  little  as  they  dream  of  it,  to  answer  this  ques- 
tion, put  in  a  voice  of  thunder:  What  are  you  doing  in  God's 
fair  Earth  and  Task-garden ;  where  whosoever  is  not  working 
is  begging  or  stealing?  Woe,  woe  to  themselves  and  to  all.  if 
they  can  only  answer :  Collecting  tithes,  Preserving  game ! — 
Remark,  meanwhile,  how  D'Orlcans  affects  to  step  before  his 
own  order,  and  mingle  with  the  Commons.  For  him  are 
vivats:  few  for  the  rest,  though  all  wave  in  plumed  "hats  of  a 
feudal  cut,"  and  have  sword  on  thigh ;  though  among  them  is 
D'Antraigncs,  the  young  Langucdocian  gentleman, — an<l  in- 
deed many  a  Peer  more  or  less  noteworthy. 

There  are  Liancoiirt,  and  La  Rochefoncault;  the  liberal  An- 

^  Bouille,  Memoires  sur  la  Revolution  Franqaisc  (London.  1797),  i.  68. 
f  Dumont,  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabcau,  p.  64.  g  a.d.  1834. 


126  CARLYLE  [1789 

glomaniac  Dukes.  There  is  a  filially  pions  Lally;  a  couple  of 
liberal  Laincths.  Above  all,  there  is  a  Lafayette;  whose  name 
shall  be  Cromwell-Grandison,  and  fill  the  world.  Many  a 
"  formula  "  has  this  Lafayette  too  made  away  with ;  yet  not  all 
formulas.  He  sticks  by  the  Washington-formula ;  and  by  that 
he  will  stick ; — and  hang  by  it,  as  by  sure  bower-anchor  hangs 
and  swings  the  tight  war-ship,  which,  after  all  changes  of  wild- 
est weather  and  water,  is  found  still  hanging.  Happy  for  him ; 
be  it  glorious  or  not !  Alone  of  all  Frenchmen  he  has  a  theory 
of  the  world,  and  right  mind  to  conform  thereto ;  he  can  become 
a  hero  and  perfect  character,  were  it  but  the  hero  of  one  idea.- 
Note  further  our  old  Parlementary  friend,  Crispin-Catiline  d'Es- 
premenil.  He  is  returned  from  the  Mediterranean  Islands,  a 
redhot  royalist,  repentant  to  the  finger-ends; — unsettled-look- 
ing; whose  light,  dusky-glowing  at  best,  now  flickers  foul  in  the 
socket ;  whom  the  National  Assembly  will  by  and  by,  to  save 
time,  "  regard  as  in  a  state  of  distraction."  Note  lastly  that 
globular  Yonnger  Mirabeau ;  indignant  that  his  elder  Brother 
\]/  is  among  the  Commons :  it  is  Viscomte  Mirabeau ;  named  often- 
er  Mirabeau  Tonneau  (Barrel  Mirabeau),  on  account  of  his 
rotundity,  and  the  quantities  of  strong  liquor  he  contains. 

There  then  walks  our  French  Noblesse.  All  in  the  old  pomp 
of  chivalry:  and  yet,  alas,  how  changed  from  the  old  position; 
drifted  far  down  from  their  native  latitude,  like  Arctic  icebergs 
got  into  the  Equatorial  sea,  and  fast  thawing  there !  Once 
these  Chivalry  Duces  (Dukes,  as  they  are  still  named)  did 
actually  lead  the  world, — were  it  only  towards  battle-spoil,  where 
lay  the  world's  best  wages  then :  moreover,  being  the  ablest 
Leaders  going,  they  had  their  lion's  share,  those  Duces;  which 
none  could  grudge  them.  But  now,  when  so  many  Looms,  im- 
proved Ploughshares,  Steam-Engines  and  Bills  of  Exchange 
have  been  invented ;  and,  for  battle-brawling  itself,  men  hire 
Drill- Sergeants  at  eighteenpence  a-day, — what  mean  these  gold- 
mantled  Chivalry  Figures,  walking  there  "  in  black-velvet 
cloaks,"  in  high-plumed  "  hats  of  a  feudal  cut  ? "  Reeds 
shaken  in  the  wind  ! 

The  clergy  have  got  up;  with  Cahicrs  for  abolishing  plurali- 
ties, enforcing  residence  of  bishops,  better  payment  of  tithes./t 
The  Dignitaries,  we  can  observe,  walk  stately,  apart  from  the 
numerous  Undignified, — who  indeed  are  properly  little  other 

li  Hist.  Pari.  i.  322-27. 


May  4th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  127 

than  Commons  disguised  in  Curate-frocks.  Here,  however, 
though  by  strange  ways,  shall  the  Precept  be  fulfilled,  and  they 
that  are  greatest  (much  to  their  astonishment)  become  least. 
For  one  example,  out  of  many,  mark  that  plausible  Grcgoire: 
one  day  Cure  Gregoire  shall  be  a  Bishop,  when  the  now  stately 
are  wandering  distracted,  as  Bishops  in  partibus.  With  other 
thought,  mark  also  the  Abbe  Maury:  his  broad  bold  face ;  mouth 
accurately  primmed :  bull  eyes,  that  ray  out  intelligence,  false- 
hood,— the  sort  of  sophistry  which  is  astonished  you  should  find 
it  sophistical.  Skillfulest  vamper-up  of  old  rotten  leather,  to 
make  it  look  like  new ;  always  a  rising  man ;  he  used  to  tell 
Mercier,  "  You  will  see ;  I  shall  be  in  the  Academy  before  you."j 
Likely  indeed,  thou  skilfulest  Maury ;  nay  thou  shalt  have  a 
Cardinal's  Hat,  and  plush  and  glory ;  but  alas,  also,  in  the  long- 
run — mere  oblivion,  like  the  rest  of  us ;  and  six  feet  of  earth ! 
What  boots  it,  vamping  rotten  leather  on  these  terms?  Glori- 
ous in  comparison  is  the  livelihood  thy  good  old  Father  earns, 
by  making  shoes, — one  may  hope,  in  a  sufficient  manner. 
Maury  does  not  want  for  audacity.  He  shall  wear  pistols,  by 
and  by;  and,  at  death-cries  of  "La  Lantcrnc,  The  Lamp-iron!" 
— answer  coolly,  "  Friends,  will  you  see  better  there  ?  " 
r     But  yonder,  halting  lamely  along,  thou  noticest  next  Bishop 

fTalleyrand-Perigord,  his  Reverence  of  Autun.  A  sardonic 
grimness  lies  in  that  irreverend  Reverence  of  Autun.  He  will 
do  and  suffer  strange  things ;  and  will  become  surely  one  of  the 
strangest  things  ever  seen,  or  like  to  be  seen.  A  man  living  in 
falsehood,  and  on  falsehood  ;  yet  not  what  you  can  call  a  false 
man :  there  is  the  specialty ;  It  will  be  an  enigma  for  future 
ages,  one  may  hope :  hitherto  such  a  product  of  Nature  and  Art 
was  possible  only  for  this  age  of  ours, — Age  of  Paper,  and  of 
the  Burning  of  Paper.  Consider  Bishop  Talleyrand  and  Mar- 
quis Lafayette  as  the  topmost  of  their  two  kinds ;  and  say  once 
more,  looking  at  what  they  did  and  what  they  were,  O  Tempus 
ferax  rerum! 

On  the  whole,  however,  has  not  this  unfortunate  Clergy  also 
drifted  in  the  Time-stream,  far  from  its  native  latitude?  An 
anomalous  mass  of  men ;  of  whom  the  whole  world  has  already 
a  dim  understanding  that  it  can  understand  nothing.  Thoy 
were  once  a  Priesthood,  interpreters  of  Wisdom,  revealers  of 
the  Holy  that  is  in  Man ;  a  true  Clerus  (or  Inheritance  of  God 

i  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris. 


^ 


128  CARLYLE  [1789 

on  Earth):  but  now? — They  pass  silently,  with  such  Cahiers 
as  they  have  been  able  to  redact;  and  none  cries,  God  bless 
them. 

King  Louis  with  his  Court  brings  up  the  rear:  he  cheerful, 
in  this  day  of  hope,  is  saluted  with  plaudits ;  still  more  Necker 
his  Minister.  Not  so  the  Queen;  on  whom  hope  shines  not 
steadily  any  more.  Ill-fated  Queen !  Her  hair  is  already  gray 
with  many  cares  and  crosses ;  her  first-born  son  is  dying  in  these 
weeks :  black  falsehood  has  inefifaceably  soiled  her  name ;  in-  \  , j^ 
effaceably  while  this  generation  lasts.  Instead  of  Vive  la 
Reine,  voices  insult  her  with  Vive  d' Orleans.  Of  her  queenly 
beauty  little  remains  except  its  stateliness;  not  now  gracious, 
but  haughty,  rigid,  silently  enduring.  With  a  most  mixed  feel- 
ing, wherein  joy  has  no  part,  she  resigns  herself  to  a  day  she 
hoped  never  to  have  seen.  Poor  Marie  Antoinette ;  with  thy 
quick  noble  instincts ;  vehement  glancings,  vision  ail-too  fitful 
narrow  for  the  work  thou  hast  to  do !  O  there  are  tears  in  store 
for  thee  ;  bitterest  wailings,  soft  womanly  meltings,  though  thou 
hast  the  heart  of  an  imperial  Theresa's  Daughter.  Thou 
doomed  one,  shut  thy  eyes  on  the  future ! — 

And  so,  in  stately  Procession,  have  passed  the  Elected  of 
France.  Some  towards  honor  and  quick  fire-consummation; 
most  towards  dishonor ;  not  a  few  towards  massacre,  confusion, 
emigration,  desperation :  all  towards  Eternity ! — So  many  hete- 
rogeneities cast  together  into  the  fermenting-vat ;  there,  with 
incalculable  action,  counteraction,  elective  affinities,  explosive 
developments,  to  work  out  healing  for  a  sick  moribund  System 
of  Society!  Probably  the  strangest  Body  of  Men,  if  we  con- 
sider well,  that  ever  met  together  on  our  Planet  on  such  an  er- 
-  rand.  So  thousandfold  complex  a  Society,  ready  to  burst-up 
from  its  infinite  depths ;  and  these  men,  its  rulers  and  healers, 
without  life-rule  for  themselves, — other  life-rule  than  a  Gospel 
according  to  Jean  Jacques !  To  the  wisest  of  them,  what  we  . 
must  call  the  wisest,  man  is  properly  an  Accident  under  the  sky.  \ 
Man  is  without  Duty  round  him ;  except  it  be  "  to  make  the       \ 

What  further  or  better  belief  can  be  said  to  exist  in  these 
Twelve  Hundred  ?  Belief  in  high-plumed  hats  of  a  feudal  cut ; 
in  heraldic  scutcheons ;  in  the  divine  right  of  Kings,  in  the 
divine  right  of  Game-destroyers.     Belief,  or  what  is  still  worse. 


Constitution."     He  is  without  Heaven  above  him,  or  Hell  be 
neath  him ;  he  has  no  God  in  the  world 


•J 


May4th-5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  129 

canting  half-belief;  or  worst  of  all,  mere  Macchiavellic  pre- 
tence-of-belief, — in  consecrated  dough-wafers,  and  the  godhood 
of  a  poor  old  Italian  Man !  Nevertheless  in  that  immeasurable 
Confusion  and  Corruption,  which  struggles  there  so  blindly  to 
become  less  confused  and  corrupt,  there  is,  as  we  said,  this  one 
salient  point  of  a  New  Life  discernible:  the  deep  fixed  Deter- 
mination to  have  done  with  Shams.  A  determination,  which, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  is  fixed;  which  waxes  ever  more 
fixed,  into  very  madness  and  fixed-idea ;  which  in  such  embodi- 
ment as  lies  provided  there,  shall  now  unfold  itself  rapidly: 
monstrous,  stupendous,  unspeakable ;  new  for  long  thousands 
of  years ! — How  has  the  Heaven's  light,  oftentimes  in  this 
Earth,  to  clothe  itself  in  thunder  and  electric  murkiness ;  and 
descend  as  molten  lightning,  blasting,  if  purifying!  Nay  is 
it  not  rather  the  very  murkiness,  and  atmospheric  suffocation, 
that  brings  the  lightning  and  the  light?  The  new  Evangel,  as 
the  old  had  been,  was  it  to  be  born  in  the  Destruction  of  a 
World  ? 

But  how  the  Deputies  assisted  at  High  Mass,  and  heard 
sermon,  and  applauded  the  preacher,  church  as  it  was,  when  he 
preached  politics ;  how,  next  day,  with  sustained  pomp,  they 
are,  for  the  first  time,  installed  in  their  Salic  dcs  Menus  (Hal' 
no  longer  of  Amusements),  and  become  a  States-General, — 
readers  can  fancy  for  themselves.  The  King  from  his 
esirade,  gorgeous  as  Solomon  in  all  his  glory,  runs  his  eye  over 
that  majestic  Hall;  many-plumed,  many-glancing;  bright-tinted 
as  rainbow,  in  the  galleries  and  near  side-spaces,  where  Beauty 
sits  raining  bright  influence.  Satisfaction,  as  of  one  that  after  >, 
long  voyaging  had  got  to  port,  plays  over  his  broad  simple  face : 
the  innocent  King !  He  rises  and  speaks,  with  sonorous  tone,  a 
conceivable  speech.  With  which,  still  more  with  the  succeed- 
ing one-hour  and  two-hours  speeches  of  Garde-des-Sceaux  and 
M.  Necker,  full  of  nothing  but  patriotism,  hope,  faith,  and  de- 
ficiency of  the  revenue, — no  reader  of  these  pages  shall  be 
tried. 

We  remark  only  that,  as  his  Majesty,  on  finishing  the  speech, 
put  on  his  plumed  hat,  and  the  Noblesse  according  to  custom 
imitated  him,  our  Tiers-Etat  Deputies  did  mostly,  not  without 
a  shade  of  fierceness,  in  like  manner  clap-on,a  and  even  crush -on 

aHistoire  Parlementairc  (i.  356).    Mercicr,  Nouveau  Paris,  Sic. 
Vol.  I.— 9 


130  CARLYLE  [1789 

their  slouched  hats ;  and  stand  there  awaiting  the  issue.  Thick- 
buzz  among  them,  between  majority  and  minority  of  Couvres- 
voiis,  Dccoiivrcz-vous  (Hats  off,  Hats  on)  !  To  which  his  Ma- 
jesty puts  end,  by  taking  off  his  own  royal  hat  again. 

The  session  terminates  without  further  accident  or  omen  than 
this;  with  which,  significantly  enough,  France  has  opened  her 
States-General. 


I 


BOOK   FIFTH. 

THE  THIRD   ESTATE. 

Chapter  I. — Inertia. 

THAT  exasperated  France,  in  this  same  National  Assem- 
bly of  hers,  has  got  something,  nay  something  great, 
momentous,  indispensable,  cannot  be  doubted  ;  yet  still 
the  question  were:  Specially  zvhatF  A  question  hard  to  solve,  -^ 
even  for  calm  onlookers  at  this  distance  ;  wholly  insoluble  to 
actors  in  the  middle  of  it.  The  States-General,  created  and 
conflated  by  the  passionate  effort  of  the  whole  Nation,  is  there 
as  a  thing  high  and  lifted  up.  Hope,  jubilating,  cries  aloud 
that  it  will  prove  a  miraculous  Brazen  Serpent  in  the  Wilder- 
ness ;  whereon  whosoever  looks,  with  faith  and  obedience,  shall 
be  healed  of  all  woes  and  serpent-bites. 

We  may  answer,  it  will  at  least  prove  a  symbolic  Banner ; 
round  which  the  exasperated  complaining  Twenty-five  Mill- 
ions, otherwise  isolated  and  without  power,  may  rally,  and 
work — what  it  is  in  them  to  work.  H  battle  must  be  the  work, 
as  one  cannot  help  expecting,  then  shall  it  be  a  battle-banner 
(say,  an  Italian  Gonfalon,  in  its  old  Republican  Carroccio) ;  and 
shall  tower  up,  car-borne,  shining  in  the  wind :  and  with  iron 
tongue  peal  forth  many  a  signal.  A  thing  of  prime  necessity ; 
which  whether  in  the  van  or  in  the  centre,  whether  leading  or 
led  and  driven,  must  do  the  fighting  multitude  incalculable  ser- 
vices. For  a  season,  while  it  floats  in  the  very  front,  nay,  as  it 
were,  stands  solitary  there,  waiting  whether  force  will  gather 
round  it,  this  same  National  Carroccio,  and  the  signal-peals  it 
rings,  are  a  main  object  with  us. 

The  omen  of  the  "  slouch-hats  clapt  on  "  shows  the  Com- 
mons Deputies  to  have  made  up  their  minds  on  one  thing:  that 
neither  Noblesse  nor  Clergy  shall  have  precedence  of  them ; 
hardly  even  Majesty  itself.  To  such  length  has  the  Contrat 
Social,  and  force  of  public  opinion,  carried  us.  For  what  is 
Majesty  but  the  Delegate  of  the  Nation  ;  delegated,  and  bar- 

131 


132  CARLYLE  [1789 

gained  with  (even  rather  tightly), — in  some  very  singular  pos- 
ture of  affairs,  which  Jean  Jacques  has  not  fixed  the  date  of  ? 

Coming  therefore  into  their  Hall,  on  the  morrow,  an  inor- 
ganic mass  of  Six  Hundred  individuals,  these  Commons  Depu- 
ties perceive,  without  terror,  that  they  have  it  all  to  themselves. 
Their  Hall  is  also  the  Grand  or  general  Hall  for  all  the  Three 
Orders.  But  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy,  it  would  seem,  have 
retired  to  their  two  separate  Apartments,  or  Halls ;  and  are 
there  "  verifying  their  powers,"  not  in  a  conjoint  but  in  a  sepa- 
rate capacity.  They  are  to  constitute  two  separate,  perhaps 
separately-voting  Orders,  then  ?  It  is  as  if  both  Noblesse  and  -1 
Clergy  had  silently  taken  for  granted  that  they  already  were  ' 
such !  Two  Orders  against  one ;  and  so  the  Third  Order  to  be 
left  in  a  perpetual  minority  ?  —n' 

Much  may  remain  unfixed  ;  but  the  negative  of  that  is  a  thing 
[fixed  :  in  the  Slouch-hatted  heads,  in  the  French  Nation's  head. 
Double  representation,  and  all  else  hitherto  gained,  were  other-  ^ 
wise  futile,  null.  Doubtless,  the  "  powers  must  be  verified ;  " 
— doubtless,  the  Commission,  the  electoral  Documents  of  your 
Deputy  must  be  inspected  by  his  brother  Deputies,  and  found 
valid :  it  is  the  preliminary  of  all.  Neither  is  this  question,  of 
doing  it  separately  or  doing  it  conjointly,  a  vital  one:  but  if  it 
lead  to  such  ?  It  must  be  resisted ;  wise  was  that  maxim,  Re- 
sist the  beginnings !  Nay  were  resistance  unadvisable,  even 
dangerous,  yet  surely  pause  is  very  natural :  pause,  with 
Twenty-five  Millions  behind  you,  may  become  resistance 
enough. — The  inorganic  mass  of  Commons  Deputies  will  re- 
strict itself  to  a  "  system  of  inertia,"  and  for  the  present  remain 
inorganic. 

Such  method,  recommendable  alike  to  sagacity  an'd  to  timid- 
ity, do  the  Commons  Deputies  adopt ;  and,  not  without  adroit- 
ness, and  with  ever  more  tenacity,  they  persist  in  it,  day  after 
day,  week  after  week.  For  six  weeks  their  history  is  of  the 
kind  named  barren;  which  indeed,  as  Philosophy  knows,  is 
often  the  fruitfulcst  of  all.  These  were  their  still  creation- 
days  ;  wherein  they  sat  incubating!  In  fact,  what  they  did  was 
to  do  nothing,  in  a  judicious  manner.  Daily  the  inorganic  body 
reassembles ;  regrets  that  they  cannot  get  organization,  "  verifi- 
cation of  powers  in  common,"  and  begin  regenerating  France. 
Headlong  motions  may  be  made,  but  let  such  be  repressed; 
inertia  alone  is  at  once  unpunishable  and  unconquerable. 


May6th-i5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  133 

Cunning  must  be  met  by  cunning;  proud  pretension  by  in- 
ertia, by  a  low  tone  of  patriotic  sorrow ;  low,  but  incurable,  un- 
alterable. Wise  as  serpents;  harmless  as  doves:  what  a  spec- 
tacle for  France !  Six  Hundred  inorganic  individuals,  essential  - 
for  its  regeneration  and  salvation,  sit  there,  on  their  elliptic 
benches,  longing  passionately  towards  life;  in  painful  durance; 
like  souls  waiting  to  be  born.  Speeches  are  spoken ;  eloquent ; 
audible  within  doors  and  without.  Mind  agitates  itself  against 
mind ;  the  Nation  looks  on  with  ever  deeper  interest.  Thus  do 
the  Commons  Deputies  sit  incubating. 

There  are  private  conclaves,  supper-parties,  consultations ; 
Breton  Club,  Club  of  Viroflay ;  germs  of  many  Clubs.  Wholly 
an  element  of  confused  noise,  dimness,  angry  heat ; — wherein, 
however,  the  Eros-egg,  kept  at  the  fit  temperature,  may  hover 
safe,  unbroken  till  it  be  hatched.  In  your  Mouniers,  Malouets, 
Lechapeliers  is  science  sufficient  for  that ;  fervor  in  your  Bar- 
naves,  Rabauts.  At  times  shall  come  an  inspiration  from  royal 
Mirabeau:  he  is  nowise  yet  recognized  as  royal;  nay  he  was 
"  groaned  at,"  when  his  name  was  first  mentioned :  but  he  is 
struggling  towards  recognition. 

In  the  course  of  the  week,  the  Commons  having  called  their 
Eldest  to  the  chair,  and  furnished  him  with  young  stronger- 
lunged  assistants, — can  speak  articulately ;  and,  in  audible 
lamentable  words,  declare,  as  we  said,  that  they  are  an  in- 
organic body,  longing  to  become  organic.  Letters  arrive ;  but 
an  inorganic  body  cannot  open  letters ;  they  lie  on  the  table  un- 
opened. The  Eldest  may  at  most  procure  for  himself  some 
kind  of  List  or  Muster-roll,  to  take  the  votes  by ;  and  wait  what 
will  betide.  Noblesse  and  Clergy  are  all  elsewhere :  however, 
an  eager  public  crowds  all  galleries  and  vacancies ;  which  is 
some  comfort.  With  effort,  it  is  determined,  not  that  a  Depu- 
tation shall  be  sent, — for  how  can  an  inorganic  body  send  depu- 
tations?— but  that  certain  individual  Commons  Members  shall, 
in  an  accidental  way,  stroll  into  the  Clergy  Chamber,  and  then 
into  the  Noblesse  one ;  and  mention  there,  as  a  thing  they  have 
happened  to  observe,  that  the  Commons  seem  to  be  sitting  wait- 
ing for  them,  in  order  to  verify  their  powers.  That  is  the  wiser 
method ! 

The  Clergy,  among  whom  are  such  a  multitude  of  Undigni- 
fied, of  mere  Commons  in  Curates'  frocks,  depute  instant  re- 
spectful answer  that  they  arc,  and  will  now  more  than  ever  be, 


134  CARLYLE  [1789 

in  deepest  study  as  to  that  very  matter.  Contrariwise  the  No- 
blesse, in  cavaHer  attitude,  reply,  after  four  days,  that  they,  for 
their  part,  are  all  verified  and  constituted ;  which,  they  had 
trusted,  the  Commons  also  were ;  such  separate  verification  be- 
ing clearly  the  proper  constitutional  wisdom-of-ancestors 
method ; — as  they  the  Noblesse  will  have  much  pleasure  in 
demonstrating  by  a  Commission  of  their  number,  if  the  Com- 
mons will  meet  them.  Commission  against  Commission ! 
Directly  in  the  rear  of  which  comes  a  deputation  of  Clergy, 
reiterating,  in  their  insidious  conciliatory  way,  the  same  pro- 
posal. Here,  then,  is  a  complexity :  what  will  wise  Commons 
say  to  this  ? 

Warily,  inertly,  the  wise  Commons,  considering  that  they 
are,  if  not  a  French  Third  Estate,  at  least  an  Aggregate  of  in- 
dividuals pretending  to  some  title  of  that  kind,  determine,  after 
talking  on  it  five  days,  to  name  such  a  Commission, — though, 
as  it  were,  with  proviso  not  to  be  convinced  :  a  sixth  day  is  taken 
up  in  naming  it ;  a  seventh  and  an  eighth  day  in  getting  the 
forms  of  meeting,  place,  hour  and  the  like,  settled :  so  that  it  is 
not  till  the  evening  of  the  23d  of  May  that  Noblesse  Commission     yU>^ 
first  meets  Commons  Commission,  Clergy  acting  as  Concilia-  ; 
tors;  and  begins  the  impossible  task  of  convincing  it.     One  J 
other  meeting,  on  the  2Sth,  will  suffice  :  the  Commons  are  incon- 
vincible,  the  Noblesse  and  Clergy  irrefragably  convincing ;  the 
Commissions  retire ;  each  Order  persisting  in  its  first  preten- 
sions.0 

Thus  have  three  weeks  passed.  For  three  weeks,  the  Third- 
Estate  Carroccio,  with  far-seen  Gonfalon,  has  stood  stockstill, 
flouting  the  wind ;  waiting  what  force  would  gather  round  it. 

Fancy  can  conceive  the  feeling  of  the  Court ;  and  how  coun- 
sel met  counsel,  and  loud-sounding  inanity  whirled  in  that  dis- 
tracted vortex,  where  wisdom  could  not  dwell.  Your  cunningly  , 
devised  Taxing-Machine  has  been  got  together ;  set  up  with  in-  | 
credible  labor ;  and  stands  there,  its  three  pieces  in  contact ;  its 
two  fly-wheels  of  Noblesse  and  Clergy,  its  huge  working-wheel 
of  Tiers-Etat.  The  two  fly-wheels  whirl  in  the  softest  manner ; 
but,  prodigious  to  look  upon,  the  huge  working-wheel  hangs 
motionless,  refuses  to  stir !     The  cunningest  engineers  are  at 

a  Reported  Debates,  6th  May  to  ist  June  1789  (in  Histoire  Parlemcnt- 
aire,  i.  379-422). 


-^ 


May6th-i5th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  135 

fault.  IIow  zi'ill  it  work,  when  it  does  begin?  Fearfully,  my 
Friends ;  and  to  many  purposes ;  but  to  gather  taxes,  or  grind 
court-meal,  one  may  apprehend,  never.  Could  we  but  have 
continiied  gathering  taxes  by  hand!  Messeigneurs  d'Artois/^ 
Conti,  Conde  (named  Court  Triumvirate),  they  of  the  anti-- 
democratic  Meinoire  au  Roi,  has  not  their  foreboding  proved 
true  ?  They  may  wave  reproachfully  their  high  heads ;  they 
may  beat  their  poor  brains ;  but  the  cunningest  engineers  can 
do  nothing.  Necker  himself,  were  he  even  listened  to,  begins  to 
look  blue.  The  only  thing  one  sees  advisable  is  to  bring  up 
soldiers.  New  regiments,  two,  and  a  battalion  of  a  third,  have 
already  reached  Paris ;  others  shall  get  in  march.  Good  were 
it,  in  all  circumstances,  to  have  troops  within  reach ;  good  that 
the  command  were  in  sure  hands.  Let  Broglie  be  appointed; 
old  Marshal  Duke  de  Broglie ;  veteran  disciplinarian,  of  a  firm 
drill-sergeant  morality,  such  as  may  be  depended  on. 

For,  alas,  neither  are  the  Clergy,  or  the  very  Noblesse  what 
they  should  be ;  and  might  be,  when  so  menaced  from  without : 
entire,  undivided  within.  The  Noblesse,  indeed,  have  their 
Catiline  or  Crispin  D'Espremenil,  dusky-glowing,  all  in  rene- 
gade heat ;  their  boisterous  Barrel-Mirabeau ;  but  also  they  have 
their  Lafayettes,  Liancourts,  Lameths;  above  all,  their 
D'Orleans,  now  cut  forever  from  his  Court-moorings,  and 
musing  drowsily  of  high  and  highest  sea-prizes  (for  is  not  he 
too  a  son  of  Henri  Quatre,  and  partial  potential  Heir-Ap- 
parent?)— on  his  voyage  towards  Chaos.  From  the  Clergy 
again,  so  numerous  are  the  Cures,  actual  deserters  have  run 
over:  two  small  parties;  in  the  second  party  Cure  Gregoire, 
Nay  there  is  talk  of  a  whole  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  of  them 
about  to  desert  in  mass,  and  only  restrained  by  an  Archbishop 
of  Paris.     It  seems  a  losing  game. 

But  judge  if  France,  if  Paris  sat  idle,  all  this  while!  Ad- 
dresses from  far  and  near  flow  in :  for  our  Commons  have  now 
grown  organic  enough  to  open  letters.  Or  indeed  to  cavil  at 
them !  Thus  poor  Marquis  de  Breze,  Supreme  Usher,  Master 
of  Ceremonies,  or  whatever  his  title  was,  writing  about  this  time 
on  some  ceremonial  matter,  sees  no  harm  in  winding  up  with 
a  "  Monsieur,  yours  with  sincere  attachment." — "  To  whom 
docs  it  address  itself,  this  sincere  attachment?"  inquires  Mira- 
bcau.  "  To  the  Dean  of  the  Tiers-Etat.'— "  There  is  no  man 
in  France  entitled  to  write  that,"  rejoins  he ;  whereat  the  Gal- 


136  CARLYLE  [17S9 

leries  and  the  World  will  not  be  kept  from  applauding.^  Poor 
De  Breze !  These  Commons  have  a  still  older  grudge  at  him ; 
nor  has  he  yet  done  with  them. 

In  another  way,  Mirabeau  has  had  to  protest  against  the 
quick  suppression  of  his  Newspaper,  Journal  of  the  States- 
General  ; — and  to  continue  it  under  a  new  name.  In  which  act 
of  valor,  the  Paris  Electors,  still  busy  redacting  their  Cahicr, 
could  not  but  support  him,  by  Address  to  his  Majesty:  they 
claim  utmost  "  provisory  freedom  of  the  press ;"  they  have 
spoken  even  about  demolishing  the  Bastille,  and  erecting  a 
Bronze  Patriot  King  on  the  site ! — These  are  the  rich  Burgh- 
ers :  but  now  consider  how  it  went,  for  example,  with  such  loose 
miscellany,  now  all  grown  eleutheromaniac,  of  Loungers, 
Prowlers,  social  Nondescripts  (and  the  distilled  Rascality  of 
our  Planet),  as  whirls  forever  in  the  Palais  Royal; — or  what 
low  infinite  groan,  fast  changing  into  a  growl,  comes  from 
Saint-Antoine,  and  the  Twenty-five  Millions  in  danger  of 
starvation ! 

There  is  the  indisputablest  scarcity  of  corn ; — be  it  Aristo- 
crat-plot, D'Orleans-plot,  of  this  year;  or  drought  and 'hail  of 
last  year :  in  city  and  province,  the  poor  man  looks  desolately 
towards  a  nameless  lot.  And  this  States-General,  that  could 
make  us  an  age  of  gold,  is  forced  to  stand  motionless ;  cannot 
get  its  powers  verified !  All  industry  necessarily  languishes,  if 
it  be  not  that  of  making  motions. 

In  the  Palais  Royal  there  has  been  erected,  apparently  by 
subscription,  a  kind  of  Wooden  Tent  {en  planches  dc  bois)  ;c — 
most  convenient;  where  select  Patriotism  can  now  redact  reso- 
lutions, deliver  harangues,  with  comfort,  let  the  weather  be  as 
it  will.  Lively  is  that  Satan-at-Home !  On  his  table,  on  his 
chair,  in  every  cafe,  stands  a  patriotic  orator;  a  crowd  round 
him  within ;  a  crowd  listening  from  without,  open-mouthed, 
through  open  door  and  window ;  with  "  thunders  of  applause 
for  every  sentiment  of  more  than  common  hardiness."  In 
Monsieur  Dessein's  Pamphlet-shop,  close  by,  you  cannot  with- 
out strong  elbowing  get  to  the  counter:  every  hour  produces 
its  pamphlet,  or  litter  of  pamphlets ;  "  there  were  thirteen  to- 
day,  sixteen   yesterday,   ninety-two   last   week."rf     Think   of 

b  Monitcur  (in  Histoire  Parlcmcntairc,  L  405). 
c  TJisfnirc  Parlcmcntaire,  i.  429. 
d  Arthur  Young,  Travels,  i.  104. 


May  i6th-26th]         THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  137 

Tyranny  and  Scarcity ;  Fervid-eloquence,  Rumor,  Pamphleteer- 
ing; Socictc  Puhlicole,  Breton  Club,  Enraged  Club; — and 
whether  every  tap-room,  coffee-room,  social  reunion,  accidental 
street-group,  over  wide  France,  was  not  an  Enraged  Club  ! 

To  all  which  the  Commons  Deputies  can  only  listen  with  a 
sublime  inertia  of  sorrow ;  reduced  to  busy  themselves  "  with 
their  internal  police."  Surer  position  no  Deputies  ever  occu- 
pied ;  if  they  keep  it  with  skill.  Let  not  the  temperature  rise 
too  high ;  break  not  the  Eros-egg  till  it  be  hatched,  till  it  break 
itself !  An  eager  public  crowds  all  Galleries  and  vacancies ; 
"  cannot  be  restrained  from  applauding."  The  two  Privileged 
Orders,  the  Noblesse  all  verified  and  constituted,  may  look  on 
with  what  face  they  will ;  not  without  a  secret  tremor  of  heart. 
The  Clergy,  always  acting  the  part  of  conciliators,  make  a 
clutch  at  the  Galleries,  and  the  popularity  there ;  and  miss  it. 
Deputation  of  them  arrives,  with  dolorous  message  about  the 
"  dearth  of  grains,"  and  the  necessity  there  is  of  casting  aside 
vain  formalities,  and  deliberating  on  this.  An  insidious  pro- 
posal;  which,  however,  the  Commons  (moved  thereto  by  sea- 
green  Robespierre)  dexterously  accept  as  a  sort  of  hint,  or 
even  pledge,  that  the  Clergy  will  forthwith  come  over  to  them, 
constitute  the  States-General,  and  so  cheapen  grains  \c  Finally- 
on  the  27th  day  of  May,  Mirabeau,  judging  the  time  now 
nearly  come,  proposes  that  "the  inertia  cease;"  that,  leaving 
the  Noblesse  to  their  own  stiff  ways,  the  Clergy  be  summoned,  \ 
"  in  the  name  of  the  God  of  Peace,"  to  join  the  Commons, 
and  begin. /^  To  which  summons  if  they  turn  a  deaf  ear, — we- 
shall  sec !  Are  not  one  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  of  them  ready 
to  desert? 

O  Triumvirate  of  Princes,  new  Garde-des-Sceaux  Barentin, 
thou  Home-Secretary  Breteuil,  Duchess  Polignac,  and  Queen 
eager  to  listen, — what  is  now  to  be  done?  This  Third  Estate 
will  get  in  motion,  with  the  force  of  all  France  in  it ;  Clergy- 
machinery  with  Noblesse-machinery,  which  were  to  serve 
as  beautiful  counterbalances  and  drags,  will  be  shamefully 
dragged  after  it, — and  take  fire  along  with  it.  What  is  to  be 
done?  The  Qiil-de-BcEuf  waxes  more  confused  than  ever. 
Whisper  and  counter-whisper;  a  very  tempest  of  whispers! 
Leading  men  from  all  the  Three  Orders  are  nightly  spirited 

^  Bailly,  Memoircs,  i.  114. 

f  Histoirc  rarlcmcntairc,  i.  413. 


138  CARLYLE  [1789 

thither;  conjurors  many  of  them;  but  can  they  conjure  this? 
Necker  himself  were  now  welcome,  could  he  interfere  to  pur- 
pose. 

Let  Necker  interfere,  then ;  and  in  the  King's  name !  Hap- 
pily that  incendiary  "  God-of-Peace "  message  is  not  yet 
anszvercd„  The  Three  Orders  shall  again  have  conferences ; 
under  fliis  Patriot  Minister  of  theirs,  somewhat  may  be  healed, 
clouted  up, — we  meanwhile  getting  forward  Swiss  Regi--"! 
ments  and  a  "  hundred  pieces  of  field-artillery."  This  is  what  bK 
the  CEil-de-Boeuf,  for  its  part,  resolves  on.  -sj 

But  as  for  Necker — Alas,  poor  Necker,  thy  obstinate  Third 
Estate  has  one  first-last  word,  verification  in  common,  as  the 
pledge  of  voting  and  deliberating  in  common !  Half-way  pro- 
posals, from  such  a  tried  friend,  they  answer  with  a  stare.  The 
tardy  conferences  speedily  break  up:  the  Third  Estate,  now 
ready  and  resolute,  the  whole  world  backing  it,  returns  to  its 
Hall  of  the  Three  Orders;  and  Necker  to  the  CEil-de-Boeuf, 
with  the  character  of  a  disconjured  conjurer  there, — fit  only, 
for  dismissal.^ 

And  so  the  Commons  Deputies  are  at  last  on  their  own 
strength  getting  under  way?  Instead  of  Chairman,  or  Dean, 
they  have  now  got  a  President:  Astronomer  Bailly.  Under 
way,  with  a  vengeance !  With  endless  vociferous  and  tem- 
perate eloquence,  borne  on  Newspaper  wings  to  all  lands,  they 
have  now,  on  this  17th  day  of  June,  determined  that  their 
name  is  not  Third  Estate,  but — National  Assembly!  They, 
then,  are  the  Nation?  Triumvirate  of  Princes,  Queen,  refrac- 
tory Noblesse  and  Clergy,  what,  then,  are  you?  A  most  deep 
question ; — scarcely  answerable  in  living  political  dialects. 

All  regardless  of  which,  our  new  National  Assembly  pro- 
ceeds to  appoint  a  "  committee  of  subsistences ;"  dear  to 
France,  though  it  can  find  little  or  no  grain.  Next,  as  if  our 
National  Assembly  stood  quite  firm  on  its  legs, — to  appoint 
"  four  other  standing  committees ;"  then  to  settle  the  security 
of  the  National  Debt;  then  that  of  the  Annual  Taxation:  all 
within  eight-and-forty  hours.  At  such  rate  of  velocity  it  is 
going:  the  conjurors  of  the  CEil-de-Bceuf  may  well  ask 
themselves.  Whither? 

£:  Debates,  ist  to  17th  June  1789  (in  Histoire  Parlcmentaire,  i.  422- 
478). 


June  20th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  139 


Chapter  II. — Mercury  de  Breze. 

Now  surely  were  the  time  for  a  "  god  from  the  machine ;" 
there  is  a  nodus  worthy  of  one.  The  only  question  is,  Which 
god?  Shall  it  be  Mars  de  Broglie,  with  his  hundred  pieces  of 
cannon? — Not  yet,  answers  prudence;  so  soft,  irresolute  is 
King  Louis.  Let  it  be  Messenger  Mcrcitry,  our  Supreme  Usher 
dc  Breze ! 

On  the  morrow,  which  is  the  20th  of  June,  these  Hundred 
and  Forty-nine  false  Curates,  no  longer  restrainable  by  his 
Grace  of  Paris,  will  desert  in  a  body :  let  De  Breze  inter- 
vene, and  produce — closed  doors !  Not  only  shall  there  be 
Royal  Session,  in  that  Salle  des  Menus ;  but  no  meeting,  nor 
working  (except  by  carpenters),  till  then.  Your  Third  Es- 
tate, self-styled  "  National  Assembly,"  shall  suddenly  see  itself 
extruded  from  its  Hall,  by  carpenters,  in  this  dexterous  way ; 
and  reduced  to  do  nothing,  not  even  to  meet,  or  articulately 
lament, — till  Majesty,  with  Seance  Royale  and  new  miracles,  be 
ready !  In  this  manner  shall  De  Breze,  as  Mercury  ex  machina, 
intervene ;  and,  if  the  GEil-de-Boeuf  mistake  not,  work  deliver- 
ance from  the  nodus. 

Of  poor  De  Breze  we  can  remark  that  he  has  yet  prospered 
in  none  of  his  dealings  with  these  Commons.  Five  weeks  ago, 
when  they  kissed  the  hand  of  Majesty,  the  mode  he  took  got 
nothing  but  censure;  and  then  his  "  sincere  attachment,"  how 
was  it  scornfully  whiffed  aside !  Before  supper,  this  night,  he 
writes  to  President  Bailly,  a  new  Letter,  to  be  delivered  shortly 
after  dawn  to-morrow,  in  the  King's  name.  Which  Letter,  how- 
ever, Bailly,  in  the  pride  of  office,  will  merely  crush  together 
into  his  pocket,  like  a  bill  he  docs  not  mean  to  pay. 
p  Accordingly  on  Saturday  morning  the  20th  of  June,  shrill- 
sounding  heralds  proclaim,  through  the  streets  of  Versailles, 
,  that  there  is  to  be  Seance  Royale  next  Mondav ;  and  no  meet- 
'^ing  of  the  States-General  till  then.  And  yet.  we  observe, 
President  Bailly,  in  sound  of  this,  and  with  De  Breze's  Letter 
in  his  pocket  is  proceeding,  with  National  Assembly  at  his 
heels,  to  the  accustomed  Salle  des  Menus ;  as  if  De  Breze 
and  heralds  were  mere  wind.  It  is  shut,  this  Salle;  occupied 
by  Gardes  Franqaises.  "  Where  is  your  Captain  ?  "  The  Cap- 
tain shows  his  royal  order:   workmen,  he  is  grieved  to  say,  are 


I40  CARLYLE  [1789 

all  busy  setting  up  the  platform  for  his  Majesty's  Seance; 
most  unfortunately,  no  admission ;  admission,  at  furthest,  for 
President  and  Secretaries  to  bring  away  papers,  which  the 
joiners  might  destroy! — President  Bailly  enters  with  Secre- 
taries ;  and  returns  bearing  papers :  alas,  within  doors,  instead 
of  patriotic  eloquence,  there  is  now  no  noise  but  hammering, 
sawing,  and  operative  screeching  and  rumbling!  A  profana- 
tion without  parallel. 
P  The  Deputies  stand  grouped  on  the  Paris  Road,  on  this 
umbrageous  Avenue  de  Versailles;  complaining  aloud  of  the 
indignity  done  them.  Courtiers,  it  is  supposed,  look  from  their 
windows,  and  giggle.  The  morning  is  none  of  the  comfort- 
ablest  :  raw ;  it  is  even  drizzling  a  little. '»  But  all  travellers 
pause ;  patriot  gallery-men,  miscellaneous  spectators  increase 
the  groups.  Wild  counsels  alternate.  Some  desperate  Deputies 
propose  to  go  and  hold  session  on  the  great  outer  Staircase 
at  Marly,  under  the  King's  windows ;  for  his  Majesty,  it 
seems,  has  driven  over  thither.  Others  talk  of  making 
the  Chateau  Forecourt,  what  they  call  Place  d' Amies,  a  Runny- 
mede  and  new  Champ  de  Mai  of  free  Frenchmen :  nay  of 
awakening,  to  sounds  of  indignant  Patriotism,  the  echoes  of 
the  CEil-de-Boeuf  itself. — Notice  is  given  that  President  Bailly,"^ 
aided  by  judicious  Guillotin  and  others,  has  found  place  in  1  > 
the  Tennis-Court  of  the  Rue  St.  Franqois.  Thither,  in  long-  ■ 
drawn  files,  hoarse- jingling,  like  cranes  on  wing,  the  Commons  j 
Deputies  angrily  wend. 

Strange  sight  w^as  this  in  the  Rue  St.  Frangois,  Vieux  Ver- 
sailles !     A  naked  Tennis-Court,  as  the  pictures  of  that  time 
still  give  it :   four  walls  ;  naked,  except  aloft  some  poor  wooden 
penthouse,  or  roofed  spectators'-gallery,  hanging  round  them : 
• — on  the  floor  not  now  an  idle  teeheeing,  a  snapping  of  balls 
and  rackets ;    but  the  bellowing  din  of  an  indignant  National 
Representation,  scandalously  exiled  thither !   However,  a  cloud  , 
of  witnesses  looks  down  on  them,  from   wooden  penthouse,  ' 
from  w^all-top,  from  adjoining  roof  and  chimney ;    rolls  to- 
wards them  from  all  quarters,  with  passionate  spoken  blessings,      y 
Some  table  can  be  procured  to  write  on ;   some  chair,  if  not  to 
sit  on,  then  to  stand  on.     The  Secretaries  undo  their  tapes ; 
Bailly  has  constituted  the  Assembly. 

Experienced   Mounier,  not  wholly  new  to  such  things,  in 
h  Bailly,  Memoires,  i.  185-206. 


June22d-23d]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  141 

Parlementary  revolts,  which  he  has  seen  or  heard  of,  thinks 
that  it  were  well,  in  these  lamentable  threatening  circum- 
stances, to  unite  themselves  by  an  Oath. — Universal  acclama- 
tion, as  from  smouldering  bosoms  getting  vent !  The  Oath  is__ 
redacted ;  pronounced  aloud  by  President  Bailly, — and  indeed 
in  such  a  sonorous  tone  that  the  cloud  of  witnesses,  even  out- 
doors, hear  it,  and  bellow  response  to  it.  Six  hundred  right- 
hands  rise  with  President  Bailly 's,  to  take  God  above  to  wit- 
ness that  they  will  not  separate  for  man  below,  but  will  meet 

^  in  all  places,  under  all  circumstances,  wheresoever  two  or 
three  can  get  together,  till  they  have  made  a  Constitution. 
Made  the  Constitution,  Friends !  That  is  a  long  task.  Six 
hundred  hands,  meanwhile,  will  sign  as  they  have  sw^orn : 
six  hundred  save  one;  one  Loyalist  Abdiel,  still  visible  by 
this  sole  light-point,  and  namable,  poor  "  M.  Martin  d'Auch, 
from  Castelnaudary,  in  Languedoc."  Him  they  permit  to 
sign  or  signify  refusal ;  they  even  save  him  from  the  cloud 
of  witnesses,  by  declaring  "  his  head  deranged."  At  four 
o'clock,  the  signatures  are  all  appended ;  new  meeting  is  fixed 
for  Monday  morning,  earlier  than  the  hour  of  the  Royal  Ses- 
sion; that  our  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  Clerical  deserters  be 
not  balked :  we  will  meet  "  at  the  Recollets  Church  or  else- 
where," in  hope  that  our  Hundred  and  Forty-nine  will  join  us ; 
— and  now  it  is  time  to  go  to  dinner. 

\     f-^  This,    then,    is    the    Session    of    the    Tcnnis-Court,    famed 
:^j^     Seance  du  Jen  de  Pan  me;   the  fame  of  which  has  gone  forth 
^o  all  lands.     This  is   Mercurius   de   Breze's  appearance  as--, 
Deus  ex  machina;    this  is  the   fruit  it  brings!     The  giggle  J 
of  Courtiers  in  the  Versailles  Avenue  has  already  died  into 
gaunt    silence.     Did    the    distracted    Court,    with    Garde-des- 
Sceaux  Barentin,  Triumvirate  and  Company,  imagine  that  they 
could  scatter  six  hundred  National  Deputies,  big  with  a  Na- 
tional Constitution,  like  as  much  barndoor  poultry,  liig  with 
next  to  nothing, — by  the  white  or  black  rod  of  a   Supreme 
r Usher?    Barndoor  poultry  fly  cackling:   but  National  Deputies 

.\-  turn  round,  lion-faced;  and,  w^ith  uplifted  right-hand,  swear 
an  Oath  that  makes  the  four  corners  of  France  tremble. 

President  Bailly  has  covered  him.self  witli  honor;  which 
shall  become  rewards.  The  National  Assembly  is  now  doiil)ly 
and  trebly  the  Nation's  Assembly ;  not  militant,  martyred  only, 
but    triumphant;    insulted,    and    which  cnnll  not  he  insulted. 


142  CARLYLE  [1789 

Paris  disembogues  itself  once  more,  to  witness,  "  with  grim 
looks,"  the  Seance  Royale:i  which,  by  a  new  fehcity,  is  post- 
poned till  Tuesday.  The  Hundred  and  Forty-nine,  and  even 
with  Bishops  among  them,  all  in  processional  mass,  have  had 
free  leisure  to  march  off,  and  solemnly  join  the  Commons 
sitting  waiting  in  their  Church.  The  Commons  welcomed  them 
with  shouts,  with  embracings,  nay  with  tears;;  for  it  is  grow- 
ing a  life-and-death  matter  now. 

As  for  the  Seance  itself,  the  carpenters  seem  to  have  ac- 
complished their  platform ;  but  all  else  remains  unaccom- 
plished. Futile,  we  may  say  fatal,  was  the  whole  matter. 
King  Louis  enters,  through  seas  of  people,  all  grim-silent, 
angry  with  many  things, — for  it  is  a  bitter  rain  too.  Enters, 
to  a  Third-Estate,  like-wise  grim-silent ;  which  has  been  wetted 
waiting  under  mean  porches,  at  back-doors,  while  Court  and 
Privileged  were  entering  by  the  front.  King  and  Garde-des- 
Sceaux  (there  is  no  Necker  visible)  make  known,  not  with- 
out longwindedness,  the  determinations  of  the  royal  breast. 
The  Three  Orders  shall  vote  separately.  On  the  other  hand, 
France  may  look  for  considerable  constitutional  blessings ;  as 
specified  in  these  Five-and-thirty  Articles,^  which  Garde-des- 
Sceaux  is  waxing  hoarse  with  reading.  Which  Five-and- 
thirty  Articles,  adds  his  Majesty  again  rising,  if  the  Three 
Orders  most  unfortunately  cannot  agree  together  to  effect  them, 
I  myself  will  effect :  "  seul  jc  ferai  le  bien  de  mes  pcuples,"  \J 
— which  being  interpreted  may  signify,  You,  contentious  Depu- 
ties of  the  States-General,  have  probably  not  long  to  be  here ! 
But,  in  fine,  all  shall  now  withdraw  for  this  day;  and  meet 
again,  each  Order  in  its  separate  place,  to-morrow  morning, 
for  despatch  of  business.  This  is  the  determination  of  the 
royal  breast:  pithy  and  clear.  And  herewith  King,  retinue, 
Noblesse,  majority  of  Clergy  file  out,  as  if  the  whole  matter 
were  satisfactorily  completed. 

These  file  out;    through  grim-silent  seas  of  people.     Only 
the  Commons  Deputies  file  not  out ;  but  stand  there  in  gloomy 
silence,  uncertain  what  they  shall  do.     One  man  of  them  is 
certain  ;   one  man  of  them  discerns  and  dares !     It  is  now  that  -p 
King  Mirabeau  starts  to  the  Tribune,  and  lifts  up  his  lion- f 


4 


i  See  Arthur  Young  (Travels,  i.  115-118)  ;  A.  Lameth,  &c. 
;'  Dumont,  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  c.  4. 
k  Histoire  Parlemcntairc,  i.   13. 


June22d.23d]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  143 

voice.  Verily  a  word  in  season ;  for,  in  such  scenes,  the  mo- 
ment is  the  mother  of  ages!  Had  not  Gabriel  Honore  been- 
there, — one  can  well  fancy,  how  the  Common  Deputies,  af- 
frighted at  the  perils  which  now  yawned  dim  all  round  them, 
and  waxing  ever  paler  in  each  other's  paleness,  might  very 
naturally,  one  after  one,  have  glided  off;  and  the  whole  course 
of  European  History  have  been  different! 

But  he  is  there.     List  to  the  brool  of  that  royal   forest- 
voice;    sorrowful,  low;    fast  swelling  to  a  roar!    Eyes  kindle- 
at  the  glance  of  his  eye: — National  Deputies  were  missioned 
by  a  Nation ;  they  have  sworn  an  Oath ;  they — But  lo  !  while  the 
lion's  voice  roars  loudest,  what  Apparition  is  this?     Apparition 
of  Mercurius  de  Breze,  muttering  somewhat ! — "  Speak  out," 
cry  several. — "  Messieurs,'"  shrills  De  Breze,  repeating  himself, 
"  You  have  heard  the  King's  orders !  " — Mirabeau  glares  on- 
him  with  fire-flushing  face ;    shakes  the  black  lion's   mane : 
"  Yes,  Monsieur,  we  have  heard  what  the  King  was  advised  ' 
to  say :   and  you,  who  cannot  be  the  interpreter  of  his  orders 
to  the  States-General ;   you,  who  have  neither  place  nor  right 
of  speech  here ;  you  are  not  the  man  to  remind  us  of  it.     Go, 
Monsieur,  tell  those  who  sent  you  that  we  are  here  by  the  will 
of  the  People,  and  that  nothing  but  the  force  of  bayonets  shall 
send  us  hence !  "I    And  poor  De  Breze  shivers  forth  from  the-J 
National  Assembly; — and  also   (if  it  be  not  in  one  faintest 
glimmer  months  later)  finally  from  the  page  of  History! — 

Hapless  De  Breze ;  doomed  to  survive  long  ages,  in  men's 
memory,  in  this  faint  way,  with  tremulant  w'hite  rod !  He  was 
true  to  Etiquette,  which  was  his  Faith  here  below ;  a  martyr 
to  respect  of  persons.  Short  woollen  cloaks  could  not  kiss 
Majesty's  hand  as  long  velvet  ones  did.  Nay  lately,  when 
the  poor  little  Dauphin  lay  dead,  and  some  ceremonial  Visita- 
tion came,  was  he  not  punctual  to  announce  it  even  to  the 
Dauphin's  dead  body:  "  Monscigneur,  a  Deputation  of  the 
States-General !'»     Sunt  lachrymcc  rernm. 

But  what  does  the  CEil-de-Buf,  now  when  De  Breze  shivers 
back  thither?  Despatch  that  same  force  of  bayonets?  Not 
so :  the  seas  of  people  still  hang  multitudinous,  intent  on  what 
is  passing;  nay  rush  and  roll,  loud-billowing,  into  the  Courts 
of  the  Chateau  itself;  for  a  report  has  risen  that  Necker  is 
to  be  dismissed.  Worst  of  all,  the  Gardes  Franqaises  seem 
IMoniteur  {Hist.  Pari.  ii.  22).  ;»  Montgaillard,  ii.  38. 


144  CARLYLE  [17S9 

indisposed  to  act :  "  two  Companies  of  them  do  not  fire  when 
ordered !  "«  Necker,  for  not  being  at  the  Seance,  shall  be 
shouted  for,  carried  home  in  triumph ;  and  must  not  be  dis- 
missed. His  Grace  of  Paris,  on  the  other  hand,  has  to  fly 
with  broken  coach-panels,  and  owe  his  life  to  furious  driving. 
The  Gardes-dii-Corps  (Body-Guards),  which  you  were  draw- 
ing out,  had  better  be  drawn  in  again.o  There  is  no  sending 
of  bayonets  to  be  thought  of. 

Instead  of  soldiers,  the  Qiil-de-Boeuf  sends — carpenters,  to 
take  down  the  platform.  Ineffectual  shift !  In  few  instants, 
the  very  carpenters  cease  wrenching  and  knocking  at  their 
platform ;  standing  on  it,  hammer  in  hand,  and  listen  open- 
mouthed./'  The  Third  Estate  is  decreeing  that  it  is,  was,  and  ^ 
will  be  nothing  but  a  National  Assembly ;  and  now,  moreover, 
an  inviolable  one,  all  members  of  it  inviolable :  "  infamous, 
traitorous,  towards  the  Nation,  and  guilty  of  capital  crime,  is 
any  person,  body-corporate,  tribunal,  court  or  commission  that 
now  or  henceforth,  during  the  present  session  or  after  it,  shall 
dare  to  pursue,  interrogate,  arrest,  or  cause  to  be  arrested,  detain 
or  cause  to  be  detained,  any,"  etc.,  etc.,  "  on  whose  part  soever 
the  same  be  commanded. "g  Which  done,  one  can  wind  up  with 
this  comfortable  reflection  from  Abbe  Sieyes :  "  Messieurs,  you 
are  to-day  what  yovi  were  yesterday." 

Courtiers  may  shriek ;  but  it  is,  and  remains,  even  so. 
Their  well-charged  explosion  has  exploded  through  the  touch- 
hole;  covering  themselves  with  scorches,  confusion,  and  un- 
seemly soot!  Poor  Triumvirate,  poor  Queen;  and  above  all, 
poor  Queen's  Husband,  who  means  well,  had  he  any  fixed 
meaning!  Folly  is  that  wisdom  which  is  wise  only  behind- 
hand. Few  months  ago  these  Thirty-five  Concessions  had  filled 
France  with  a  rejoicing  which  might  have  lasted  for  several 
years.  Now  it  is  unavailing,  the  very  mention  of  it  slighted; 
Majesty's  express  orders  set  at  nought. 

All  France  is  in  a  roar;  a  sea  of  persons,  estimated  at-i 
"ten  thousand,"  whirls  "all  this  day  in  the  Palais  Royal. "^ 
The  remaining  Clergy,  and  likewise  some  Forty-eight  Noblesse, 
D'Orleans  among  them,  have  now  forthwith  gone  over  to  the 
victorious  Commons ; — by  whom,  as  is  natural,  they  are  re- 
ceived "  with  acclamation." 

n  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  26.  p  Histoirc  ParJewentaire,  ii.  23. 

o  Bailly,  i.  217.  q  Montgaillard,  ii.  47. 

r  Arthur  Young,  i.  119. 


--t- 


July  ist-iith]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  145 

The  Third  Estate  triumphs ;  Versaihes  Town  shouting 
round  it ;  ten  thousand  whirhng  all  day  in  the  Palais  Royal ; 
and  all  France  standing  a-tiptoe,  not  unlike  whirling!  Let 
the  CEil-de-Boeuf  look  to  it.  As  for  King  Louis,  he  will  swal- 
low his  injuries;  will  temporize,  keep  silence;  will  at  all 
costs  have  present  peace.  It  was  Tuesday  the  23  of  June, 
when  he  spoke  that  peremptory  royal  mandate ;  and  the  week 
is  not  done  till  he  has  written  to  the  remaining  obstinate  No- 
blesse, that  they  also  must  oblige  him,  and  give  in.  D'Espre- 
menil  rages  his  last ;  Barrel  Mirabeau  "  breaks  his  sword," 
making  a  vow, — which  he  might  as  well  have  kept.  The 
"  Triple  Family  "  is  now  therefore  complete ;  the  third  erring 
brother,  the  Noblesse,  having  joined  it ; — erring  but  pardonable ; 
soothed,  so  far  as  possible,  by  sweet  eloquence  from  President 
Bailly. 

So  triumphs  the  Third  Estate ;  and  States-General  are  be- 
come National  Assembly;  and  all  France  may  sing  Te  Deum. 
By  wise  inertia,  and. wise  cessation  of  inertia,  great  victory  has 
been  gained.  It  is  the  last  night  of  June:  all  night  you  meet 
nothing  on  the  streets  of  Versailles  but  "  men  running  with 
torches,"  with  shouts  and  jubilation.  From  the  2d  of  May 
when  they  kissed  the  hand  of  Majesty,  to  this  30th  of  June 
when  men  run  with  torches,  we  count  eight  weeks  and  three 
days.  For  eight  weeks  the  National  Carroccio  has  stood  far- 
seen,  ringing  many  a  signal ;  and,  so  much  having  now  gath- 
ered round  it,  may  hope  to  stand. 

Chapter  III.— Broglie  the  War-God. 

The  Court  feels  indignant  that  it  is  conquered ;  but  what 
then?  Another  time  it  will  do  better.  Mercury  descended  in 
vain ;  now  has  the  time  come  for  Mars. — The  gods  of  the 
CEil-de-Boeuf  have  withdrawn  into  the  darkness  of  their 
cloudy  Ida ;  and  sit  there,  shaping  and  forging  what  may  be 
needful,  be  it  ''  billets  of  a  new  National  Bank,"  munitions  of 
war,  or  things   forever  inscrutable  to  men. 

Accordingly,  what  means  this  "  aj^paratus  of  troops  "?  The 
National  Assembly  can  get  no  furtherance  for  its  Committee 
of  Subsistences;  can  hear  only  that,  at  Paris,  the  Bakers' 
shops  are  besieged ;  that,  in  the  Provinces,  people  are  "  living 
on  meal-husks  and  boiled  grass."  But  on  all  highways  there 
Vol.  I.  — 10 


146  CARLYLE  [1789 

hover  dust-clouds,  with  the  march  of  regiments,  with  the  trail- 
ing of  cannon :  foreign  Pandours,  of  fierce  aspect ;  Salis- 
Samade,  Esterhazy,  Royal-Allemand ;  so  many  of  them  for- 
eign; to  the  number  of  thirty  thousand, — which  fear  can 
magnify  to  fifty :  all  wending  towards  Paris  and  Versailles ! 
Already,  on  the  heights  of  Montmartre,  is  a  digging  and 
delving;  too  like  a  scarping  and  trenching.  The  effluence  of 
Paris  is  arrested  Versailles-ward  by  a  barrier  of  cannon  at 
Sevres  Bridge.  From  the  Queen's  Mews,  cannon  stand 
pointed  on  the  National-Assembly  Hall  itself.  The  National 
Assembly  has  its  very  slumbers  broken  by  the  tramp  of 
soldiery,  swarming  and  defiling,  endless,  or  seemingly  end- 
less, all  round  those  spaces,  at  dead  of  night,  "  without  drum- 
music,  without  audible  word  of  command. "-^    What  means  it? 

Shall  eight,  or  even  shall  twelve  Deputies,  our  Mirabeaus, 
Barnaves  at  the  head  of  them,  be  whirled  suddenly  to  the 
Castle  of  Ham ;  the  rest  ignominiously  dispersed  to  the  winds  ? 
No  National  Assembly  can  make  the  Constitution  with  cannon 
levelled  on  it  from  the  Queen's  Mews !  What  means  this  reti- 
cence of  the  CEil-de-Boeuf,  broken  only  by  nods  and  shrugs? 
In  the  mystery  of  that  cloudy  Ida,  what  is  it  that  they  forge 
and  shape? — Such  questions  must  distracted  Patriotism  keep 
asking,  and  receive  no  answer  but  an  echo. 

Questions  and  echo  bad  enough  in  themselves : — and  now, 
above  all,  while  the  hungry  food-year,  which  runs  from 
August  to  August,  is  getting  older;  becoming  more  and 
more  a  famine-year !  With  "  meal-husks  and  boiled  grass,"  ^ 
Brigands  may  actually  collect ;  and,  in  crowds,  at  farm  and 
mansion,  howl  angrily,  Food!  Food!  It  is  in  vain  to  send 
soldiers  against  them :  at  sight  of  soldiers  they  disperse,  they 
vanish  as  under  ground ;  then  directly  reassemble  elsewhere 
for  new  tumult  and  plunder.  Frightful  enough  to  look  at  upon  ; 
but  what  to  hear  of,  reverberated  through  Twenty-five  Millions 
of  suspicious  minds !  Brigands  and  Broglie,  open  Conflagra- 
tion, preternatural  Rumor  are  driving  mad  most  hearts  in 
France.     What  will  the  issue  of  these  things  be? 

At  Marseilles,  many  weeks  ago,  the  Townsmen  have  taken 
arms ;    for  "  suppressing  of  Brigands,"  and  other  purposes : 
the  military  Commandant  may  make  of  it  what  he  will.    Else- 
where, everywhere,  could  not  the  like  be  done?    Dubious,  on 
s  A.  Lamcth,  Assemblee  Constituante,  i.  41. 


July  ist-iith]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  147 

the  distracted  Patriot  Imagination,  wavers,  as  a  last  deliver- 
ance, sonic  foreshadow  of  a  National  Guard.  P>ut  conceive, 
above  all,  the  Wooden  Tent  in  the  Palais  Royal !  A  universal 
hubbub  there,  as  of  dissolving  worlds :  there  loudest  bellows 
the  mad,  mad-making  voice  of  Rumor;  there  sharpest  gazes 
Suspicion  into  the  pale  dim  World-Whirlpool ;  discerning 
shapes  and  phantasms :  imminent  bloodthirsty  Regiments 
camped  on  the  Champ-de-Mars ;  dispersed  National  Assembly ; 
redhot  cannon-balls  (to  burn  Paris)  : — the  mad  War-god  and 
Bellona's  sounding  thongs.  To  the  calmest  man  it  is  be- 
coming too  plain  that  battle  is  inevitable. 

Inevitable,  silently  nod  Messeigneurs  and  Broglie:  In- 
evitable and  brief!  Your  National  Assembly,  stopped  short 
in  its  Constitutional  labors,  may  fatigue  the  royal  ear  with 
addresses  and  remonstrances :  those  cannon  of  ours  stand  duly 
levelled;  those  troops  are  here.  The  King's  Declaration,  with 
its  Thirty-five  too  generous  Articles,  was  spoken,  was  not 
listened  to ;  but  remains  yet  unrevoked :  he  himself  shall  effect 
it,  sciil  il  fcra! 

As  for  Broglie,  he  has  his  headquarters  at  Versailles,  all  as 
in  a  seat  of  war:  clerks  writing;  significant  staff -officers,  in- 
clined to  taciturnity ;  plumed  aides-de-camp,  scouts,  orderlies 
flying  or  hovering.  He  himself  looks  forth,  important,  im- 
penetrable ;  listens  to  Besenval  Commandant  of  Paris,  and  his 
warning  and  earnest  counsels  (for  he  has  come  out  repeatedly 
on  purpose),  with  a  silent  smile.<  The  Parisians  resist?  scorn- 
fully cry  Messeigneurs.  As  a  meal-mob  may!  They  have  sat 
quiet,  these  five  generations,  submitting  to  all.  Their  Mercier, 
declared,  in  these  very  years,  that  a  Parisian  revolt  was  hence- 
forth "  impossible.""  Stand  by  the  royal  Declaration  c^  the 
Twenty-third  of  June.  The  Nobles  of  France,  valorous,  chiv- 
alrous as  of  old,  will  rally  round  us  with  one  heart; — and  as 
for  this  which  you  call  Third  Estate,  and  which  we  call 
canaille  of  unwashed  Sansculottes,  of  Patclins,  Scribblers,  fac- 
tious Spouters, — brave  Broglie,  "  with  a  whiff  of  grapeshot 
{salve  de  canons),"  if  need  be.  will  give  quick  account  of  it. 
Thus  reason  they:  on  their  cloudy  Ida;  hidden  from  men, 
— men  also  hidden  from  them. 

Good  is  grapeshot,   Messeigneurs,  on  one  condition :    that 
the  shooter  also  were  made  of  metal !     But  unfortunately  he 
/Besenval,  iii.  398.  m  Mercier,  Tableau  (/<■  Paris,  vi.  22. 


148  CARLYLE  [1789 

is  made  of  flesh ;  under  his  buffs  and  bandoleers  your  hired 
shooter  has  instincts,  fceHngs,  even  a  kind  of  thought.  If 
is  his  kindred,  bone  of  his  bone,  this  same  canaille  that  shall 
be  whiffed ;  he  has  brothers  in  it,  a  father  and  mother, — living 
on  meal-husks  and  boiled  grass.  His  very  doxy,  not  yet 
"  dead  i'  the  spital,"  drives  him  into  military  heterodoxy ; 
declares  that  if  he  shed  Patriot  blood,  he  shall  be  accursed 
among  men.  The  soldier,  who  has  seen  his  pay  stolen  by 
rapacious  Foulons,  his  blood  wasted  by  Soubises,  Pompadours, 
and  the  gates  of  promotion  shut  inexorably  on  him  if  he  were 
not  born  noble, — is  himself  not  without  griefs  against  you. 
Your  cause  is  not  the  soldier's  cause ;  but,  as  would  seem,  your 
own  only,  and  no  other  god's  nor  man's. 

For  example,  the  world  may  have  heard  how,  at  Bethune 
lately,  when  there  rose  some  "  riot  about  grains,"  of  which 
sort  there  are  so  many,  and  the  soldiers  stood  drawn  out, 
and  the  word  "  Fire !  "  was  given, — not  a  trigger  stirred ; 
only  the  butts  of  all  muskets  rattled  angrily  against  the 
ground ;  and  the  soldiers  stood  glooming,  with  a  mixed  ex- 
pression of  countenance ; — till  clutched  "  each  under  the  arm 
of  a  patriot  householder,"  they  were  all  hurried  off,  in  this 
manner,  to  be  treated  and  caressed,  and  have  their  pay  in- 
creased by  subscription  !^ 

Neither  have  the  Gardes  Frangaises,  the  best  regiment  of 
the  line,  shown  any  promptitude  for  street-firing  lately.    They  | 
returned  grumbling  from  Reveillon's ;    and  have  not  burnt  a 
single  cartridge  since ;    nay,  as  we  saw,  not  even  when  bid. 
A  dangerous  humor  dwells  in  these  Gardes.     Notable  men 
too,  in  their  way!    Valadi  the  Pythagorean  was,  at  one  time,, 
an  officer  of  theirs.     Nay,  in  the  ranks,  under  the  three-cornered 
felt  and  cockade,  what  hard  heads  may  there  not  be,  and 
reflections  going  on, — unknown  to  the  public!     One  head  of 
the  hardest  we  do  now  discern  there:    on  the  shoulders  of  a 
certain  Sergeant  Iloche.    Lazare  Hoche,  that  is  the  name  of 
him ;  he  used  to  be  about  the  Versailles  Royal  Stables,  nephew 
of  a  poor  herbwoman ;   a  handy  lad ;   exceedingly  addicted  to  )< 
reading.   He  is  now  Sergeant  Hoche,  and  can  rise  no  farther, 
he  lays  out  his  pay  in  rushlights,  and  cheap  editions  of  books.w 

On    the    whole,    the    best    seems    to    be:     Consig:n    these 

V  Histoirc  Parlcmcntairc. 

w  Dictionnairc  dcs  Hommcs  Marcjnaiis,  Londres  (Paris),  iSoo,  ii.  198. 


July  1st- nthj  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  149 

Gardes  Frangaises  to  their   Barracks.     So   Besenval   thinks, 
and  orders.     Consigned  to  their  barracks,  the  Gardes  Fran-^ 
9aises  do  but  form  a  "  Secret  Association,"  an  Engagement  not  j 
to  act  against  the  National  Assembly.     Debauched  by  Valadi '  •^ 
the    Pythagorean ;     debauched    by    money    and    women !     cry  : 
rBesenval  and  innumerable  others.     Debauched  by  what  you,J 
j  will,  or  in  need  of  no  debauching,  behold  them,  long  files  of 
\  them,    their    consignment    broken,    arrive,    headed    by    their 
Sergeants,  on  the  26th   day  of  June,   at  the   Palais   Royal ! 
'Welcomed  with  vivats,  with  presents,  and  a  pledge  of  patriot 
liquor ;   embracing  and  embraced ;   declaring  in  words  that  the 
cause  of  France  is  their  cause !     Next  day  and  the  following 
days  the  like.    What  is  singular  too,  except  this  patriot  humor, 
and  breaking  of  their  consignment,  they  behave  otherwise 
with  "  the  most  rigorous  accuracy."-*" 

They  are  growing  questionable,  these  Gardes !  Eleven 
ringleaders  of  them  are  put  in  the  Abbaye  Prison.  It  boots 
not  in  the  least.  The  imprisoned  Eleven  have  only,  "  by  the 
hand  of  an  individual,"  to  drop,  towards  nightfall,  a  line  in 
the  Cafe  de  Foy ;  where  Patriotism  harangues  loudest  on  its 
table.  "  Two  hundred  young  persons,  soon  waxing  to  four 
j  thousand,"  with  fit  crowbars,  roll  towards  the  Abbaye ;  smite 
asunder  the  needful  doors;  and  bear  out  their  Eleven,  with 
other  military  victims : — to  supper  in  the  Palais  Royal  Garden  : 
to  board  and  lodging  "  in  camp-beds,  in  the  Theatre  des 
.  Varictcs;  "  other  national  Prytaneum  as  yet  not  being  in  readi- 
ness. Most  deliberate !  Nay  so  punctual  were  these  young  per- 
sons, that  finding  one  military  victim  to  have  been  imprisoned 
for  real  civil  crime,  they  returned  him  to  his  cell,  with  protest. 
Why  new  military  force  was  not  called  out?  New  military 
force  was  called  out.  New  military  force  did  arrive,  full  gal- 
lop, with  drawn  sabre :  but  the  people  gently  "  laid  hold  of 
their  bridles;"  the  dragoons  sheathed  their  swords;  lifted 
their  caps  by  way  of  salute,  and  sat  like  mere  statues  of 
dragoons, — except  indeed  that  a  drop  of  liquor  being  brought 
them,  they  "  drank  to  the  King  and  Nation  with  the  greatest 
cordiality."^ 

And   now,  ask   in   return,   why   Messeigncurs   and   Broglie 
the  great  god  of  war,  on  seeing  these  things,  did  not  pause, 
and  take  some  other  course,  any  other  course?    Unhappily,  as 
X  Besenval,  iii.  394-6.  3'  Histoire  Parlcmentaire,  ii.  32. 


I50  CARLYLE  [1789 

we  said,  they  could  see  nothing.  Pride,  which  goes  before  a 
fall ;  wrath,  if  not  reasonable,  yet  pardonable,  most  natural, 
had  hardened  their  hearts  and  heated  their  heads:  so,  with 
imbecility  and  violence  (ill-matched  pair),  they  rush  to  seek 
their  hour.  All  Regiments  are  not  Gardes  Franqaises,  or  i 
debauched  by  Valadi  the  Pythagorean:  let  fresh  undebauched 
Regiments  come  up ;  let  Royal-Allemand,  Salis-Samade,  Swiss 
j^'  Chateau- Vieux  come  up, — which  can  fight,  but  can  hardly 
speak  except  in  German  gutturals ;  let  soldiers  march,  and 
highways  thunder  with  artillery-wagons :  Majesty  has  a  nczu 
Royal  Session  to  hold, — and  miracles  to  work  there !  The 
whiff  of  grapeshot  can,  if  needful,  become  a  blast  and  tempest. 

In  which  circumstances,  before  the  redhot  balls  begin  rain- 
ing, may  not  the  Hundred-and-twenty  Paris  Electors,  though 
their  Cahicr  is  long  since  finished,  see  good  to  meet  again 
daily,  as  an  "  Electoral  Club "  ?  They  meet  first  "  in  a 
Tavern ;" — where  "  a  large  wedding-party  "  cheerfully  gives 
place  to  them.-  But  latterly  they  meet  in  the  Hotel-de-ViUe, 
in  the  Townhall  itself.  Flesselles,  Provost  of  Merchants,  with 
his  four  Echevins  (Scabms,  Assessors),  could  not  prevent 
it ;  such  was  the  force  of  public  opinion.  He,  with  his  Eche- 
vins, and  the  Six-and-Twenty  Town-Councillors,  all  appointed 
from  Above,  may  well  sit  silent  there,  in  their  long  gowns; 
and  consider,  with  awed  eye,  what  prelude  this  is  of  con- 
vulsion coming  from  Below,  and  how  they  themselves  shall 
fare  in  that! 

Chapter  IV.— To  Arms! 

So  hangs  it,  dubious,  fateful,  in  the  sultry  days  of  July. 
It  is  the  passionate  printed  advice  of  M.  Marat,  to  abstain,  of 
all  things,  from  violence.^  Nevertheless  the  hungry  poor  are 
already  burning  Town  Barriers,  where  Tribute  on  eatables  is 
levied ;  getting  clamorous  for  food. 
i  The  twelfth  July  morning  is  Svmday:  the  streets  are  well 
placarded  with  an  enormous-sized  De  par  le  Roi,  "  inviting 
peaceable  citizens  to  remain  within  doors,"  to  feel  no  alarm, 
to  gather  in  no  crowd.    Why  so?    What  mean  these  "  placards 

z  Dusaulx,  Prise  de  la  Bastille  {Collection  des  Memoires,  par  Berville 
et  Barriere,  Paris,  1821),  p.  269. 

a  Avis  au  Pciiplc,  ou  les  Ministres  devoiles,  ist  July  1789  (in  Histoirc 
Parlementairc,  ii.  27), 


July  i2th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  151 

fof  enormous  size"?  Above  all,  what  means  this  clatter  of 
military;  dragoons,  hussars,  rattling  in  from  all  points  of  the 
compass  towards  the  Place  Louis  Quinze;  with  a  staid  gravity 
of  face,  though  saluted  with  mere  nicknames,  hootings  and 
even  missiles  ?&  Besenval  is  with  them.  Swiss  Guards  of 
his  are  already  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  with  four  pieces  of 
[  artillery. 

Have  the  destroyers  descended  on  us,  then?  From  the 
Bridge  of  Sevres  to  utmost  Vincennes,  from  Saint-Denis  to 
the  Champ-de-Mars,  we  are  begirt !  Alarm,  of  the  vague  un- 
known, is  in  every  heart.  The  Palais  Royal  has  become  a  place 
of  awestruck  interjections,  silent  shakings  of  the  head:  one 
can  fancy  with  what  dolorous  stound  the  noon-tide  cannon 
(which  the  Sun  fires  at  crossing  his  meridan)  went  off  there; 
bodeful,  like  an  inarticulate  voice  of  doom.c  Are  these  troops 
verily  come  out  "  against  Brigands  "  ?  Where  are  the  Brig- 
ands? What  mystery  is  in  the  wind? — Hark!  a  human  voice 
reporting  articulately  the  Job's-news:  Neckcr,  People's  Min- 
ister, Saviour  of  France,  is  dismissed.  Impossible ;  incredible !  ^"^ 
Treasonous  of  the  public  peace!  Such  a  voice  ought  to  be 
choked  in  the  water- works  ;£^ — had  not  the  news-bringer 
quickly  fled.  Nevertheless,  friends,  make  of  it  what  you  will, 
the  news  is  true.  Necker  is  gone.  Necker  hies  northward 
-incessantly,  in  obedient  secrecy,  since  yesternight.  We  have 
\^  a  new  Ministry:  Broglie  the  War-god;  Aristocrat  Breteuil; 
''^iFoulon  who  said  the  people  might  eat  grass! 

Rumor,  therefore,  shall  arise;  in  the  Palais  Royal,  and  in 
broad  France.  Paleness  sits  on  every  face ;  confused  tremor 
and  fremescence;  waxing  into  thunder-peals,  of  Fury  stirred 
on  by  Fear, 
f  But  see  Camille  Desmoulins,  from  the  Cafe  de  Foy,  rush- 
ing out,  sybilline  in  face;  his  hair  streaming,  in  each  hand  a 
pistol !  He  springs  to  a  table :  the  Police  satellites  are  eying 
him ;  alive  they  shall  not  take  him,  not  they  alive  him  alive. 
This  time  he  speaks  without  stammering: — Friends!  shall  we 
die  like  hunted  hares?  Like  sheep  hounded  into  their  pin- 
fold ;  bleating  for  mercy,  where  is  no  mercy,  but  only  a  whetted 
knife?  The  hour  is  come;  the  supreme  hour  of  Frenchman 
and  Man ;  when  Oppressors  are  to  try  conclusions  with  Op- 
pressed ;  and  the  word  is,  swift  Death,  or  Deliverance  forever. 

6  Besenval,  iii.  411.  c  Histoirc  Parlementairc,  ii.  81.  d  Ibid. 


152  CARLYLE  [1789 

Let  such  hour  be  w^//-come !  Us,  meseems,  one  cry  only 
befits :  To  Arms !  Let  universal  Paris,  universal  France,  as 
with  the  throat  of  the  whirlwind,  sound  only :  To  arms ! — 
"  To  arms !  "  yell  responsive  the  innumerable  voices ;  like  one 
great  voice,  as  of  a  Demon  yelling-  from  the  air :  for  all  faces 
wax  fire-eyed,  all  hearts  burn  up  into  madness.  In  such,  or 
fitter  words,^  does  Camillc  evoke  the  Elemental  Powers,  in 
this  great  moment. — Friends,  continues  Camille,  some  rallying- 
sign!  Cockades,  green  ones; — the  color  of  Hope! — as  with 
the  flight  of  locusts,  these  green  tree-leaves ;  green  ribands 
from  the  neighboring  shops;  all  green  things  are  snatched, 
and  made  cockades  of.  Camille  descends  from  his  table, 
"  stifled  with  embraces,  wetted  with  tears ; "  has  a  bit  of  green 
riband  handed  him ;  sticks  it  in  his  hat.  And  now  to  Curtius* 
Image-shop  there ;  to  the  Boulevards ;  to  the  four  winds ;  and 
rest  not  till  France  be  on  fire ! 

France,  so  long  shaken  and  wind-parched,  is  probably  at 
the  right  inflammable  point. — As  for  poor  Curtius,  who,  one 
grieves  to  think,  might  be  but  imperfectly  paid, — he  cannot 
make  two  words  about  his  Images.  The  Wax-bust  of  Necker, 
the  Wax-bust  of  D'Orleans,  helpers  of  France ;  these,  cov- 
ered with  crape,  as  in  funeral  procession,  or  after  the  manner 
of  suppliants  appealing  to  Heaven,  to  Earth,  and  Tartarus 
itself,  a  mixed  multitude  bears  off.  For  a  sign !  As  indeed 
man,  with  his  singular  imaginative  faculties,  can  do  little  or 
nothing  without  signs :  thus  Turks  look  to  their  Prophet's 
Banner;  also  Osier  Mannikins  have  been  burnt,  and  Necker's 
Portrait  has  erewhile  figured,  aloft  on  its  perch. 

In  this  manner  march  they,  a  mixed,  continually  increasing 
multitude ;  armed  with  axes,  staves  and  miscellanea ;  grim, 
many-sounding,  through  the  streets.  Be  all  Theatres  shut ;  let 
all  dancing,  on  planked  floor,  or  on  the  natural  greensward, 
cease !  Instead  of  a  Christian  Sabbath,  and  feast  of  guinguette 
tabernacles,  it  shall  be  a  Sorcerer's  Sabl)ath ;  and  Paris,  gone 
rabid,  dance, — with  the  Fiend  for  piper! 

However,  Besenval,  with  horse  and  foot,  is  in  the  Place 
Louis  Quinze.  Mortals  promenading  homewards,  in  the  fall  of 
the  day,  saunter  by,  from  Chaillot  or  Passy,  from  flirtation 
and  a  little  thin  wine;    with  sadder  step  than  usual.     Will 

e  Vieux  Cordelier,  par  Camille  Desmoulins,  No.  5  (reprinted  in  Col- 
lection des  Memoires,  par  Baudouin  Freres,  Paris,  1825),  p.  81. 


July  12th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  153 

the  Bust-Procession  pass  that  way  ?  Behold  it ;  behold  also 
Prince  Lambesc  dash  forth  on  it,  with  his  Royal- Allemands ! 
Shots  fall,  and  sabre-strokes ;  Busts  are  hewed  asunder ;  and, 
alas,  also  heads  of  men.  A  sabred  Procession  has  nothing  for 
it  but  to  explode,  along  what  streets,  alleys,  Tuileries  Avenues 
it  finds;  and  disappear.  One  unarmed  man  lies  hewed  down; 
a  Garde  Fran<;aise  by  his  uniform:  bear  him  (or  bear  even  the 
report  of  him)  dead  and  glory  to  his  Barracks; — where  he 
has  comrades  still  alive ! 

But  why  not  now,  victorious  Lambesc,  charge  through  that 
Tuileries  Garden  itself,  where  the  fugitives  are  vanishing?  Not 
show  the  Sunday  promenaders  too,  how  steel  glitters,  besprent 
with  blood ;  that  it  be  told  of,  and  men's  ears  tingle  ? — Tingle, 
alas,  they  did;  but  the  wrong  way.  Victorious  Lambesc,  in 
this  his  second  or  Tuileries  charge,  succeeds  but  in  overturn- 
ing (call  it  not  slashing,  for  he  struck  with  the  flat  of  his 
sword)  one  man,  a  poor  old  schoolmaster,  most  pacifically 
tottering  there ;  and  is  driven  out,  by  barricade  of  chairs,  by 
flights  of  "  bottles  and  glasses,"  by  execrations  in  bass  voice 
and  treble.  Most  delicate  is  the  mob-queller's  vocation ; 
]  wherein  Too-much  may  be  as  bad  as  Not-enough.  For  each 
/  of  these  bass  voices,  and  more  each  treble  voice,  borne  to  all 
'  parts  of  the  City,  rings  now  nothing  but  distracted  indigna- 
tion; will  ring  all  night.  The  cry,  To  arms!  roars  tenfold; 
steeples  with  their  metal  storm-voice  boom  out>  as  the  sun 
sinks ;  armorers'  shops  are  broken  open,  plundered ;  the 
streets  are  a  living  foam-sea,  chafed  by  all  the  winds. 

Such  issue  came  of  Lambesc's  charge  on  the  Tuileries 
Garden:  no  striking  of  salutary  terror  into  Chaillot  prome- 
naders ;  a  striking  into  broad  wakefulness  of  Frenzy  and  the 
three  Furies, — which  otherwise  were  not  asleep!  For  they  lie 
always,  those  subterranean  Eumcnides  (fabulous  and  yet  so 
true),  in  the  dullest  existence  of  man;  and  can  dance,  bran- 
dishing their  dusky  torches,  shaking  their  serpent-hair.  Lam- 
besc with  Royal-Allemand  may  ride  to  his  barracks,  with  curses 
for  his  marching-music ;  then  ride  back  again,  like  one  troubled 
in  mind :  vengeful  Gardes  Franqaiscs,  .yacrring.  with  knit  brows, 
start  out  on  him,  from  their  barracks  in  the  Chausse  d'Antin  ; 
pour  a  volley  into  him  (killing  and  wounding)  ;  which  he  must 
not  answer,  but  ride  on.« 

a  Weber,  ii.  75-91. 


c 


154  CARLYLE  [1789 

Counsel  dwells  not  under  the  plumed  hat.  If  the  Eumenides 
awaken,  and  Broglie  has  given  no  orders,  what  can  a  Besenval 
do?  When  the  Gardes  Frangaises,  with  Palais-Royal  volun- 
teers, roll  down,  greedy  of  more  vengeance,  to  the  Place 
Louis  Quinze  itself,  they  find  neither  Besenval,  Lambesc, 
Royal-Allemand,  nor  any  soldier  now  there.  Gone  is  military 
order.  On  the  far  Eastern  Boulevard,  of  Saint-Antoine,  the 
Chasseurs  Normandie  arrive,  dusty,  thirsty,  after  a  hard  day's 
ride ;  but  can  find  no  billet-master,  see  no  course  in  this  City  of 
Confusions ;  cannot  get  to  Besenval,  cannot  so  much  as  discover 
where  he  is :  Normandie  must  even  bivouac  there,  in  its  dust  and 
thirst, — unless  some  patriot  will  treat  it  to  a  cup  of  liquor,  with 
advices. 

Raging   multitudes    surround    the    H6tel-de-Ville,    crying: 
Arms  !  Orders !     The  Six-and-twenty  Town-Councillors,  with  -, 
their  long  gowns,  have  ducked  under  (into  the  raging  chaos)  ;  \^ 
— shall  never  emerge  more.     Besenval  is  painfully  wriggling- 
iimself  out,  to  the  Champ-de-Mars ;  he  must  sit  there  "  in  the 
cruelest  uncertainty :  "  courier  after  courier  may  dash  off  for 
Versailles ;  but  will  bring  back  no  answer,  can  hardly  bring  him- 
self back.     For  the  roads  are  all  blocked  with  batteries  and 
pickets,  with  floods  of  carriages  arrested  for  examination :  such 
was  Broglie's  one  sole  order;  the  (Eil-de-Boeuf,  hearing  in  the 
distance  such  mad  din,  which  sounded  almost  like  invasion,  will 
before  all  things  keep  its  own  head  whole.     A  new  Ministry, 
with,  as  it  were,  but  one  foot  in  the  stirrup,  cannot  take  leaps. 
Mad  Paris  is  abandoned  altogether  to  itself. 

What  a  Paris,  when  the  darkness  fell !  A  European  metro- 
politan City  hurled  suddenly  forth  from  its  old  combinations 
and  arrangements ;  to  crash  tumultuously  together,  seeking 
new.  Use  and  wont  will  now  no  longer  direct  any  man ;  each 
man,  with  what  of  originality  he  has,  must  begin  thinking;  or 
following  those  that  think.  Seven  hundred  thousand  indi- 
viduals, on  the  sudden,  find  all  their  old  paths,  old  ways  of  act- 
ing and  deciding,  vanish  from  under  their  feet.  And  so  there 
go  they,  with  clangor  and  terror,  they  know  not  as  yet  whether 
running,  swimming  or  flying, — headlong  into  the  New  Era. 
With  clangor  and  terror:  from  above,  Broglie  the  war-god  im- 
pends, preternatural,  with  his  redhot  cannon-balls ;  and  from 
below,  a  preternatural  Brigand-world  menaces  with  dirk  and 
firebrand  :  madness  rules  the  hour. 


July  i3thj  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  155 


p  Happily,  in  place  of  the  submerged  Twenty-six,  the  Electoral 
^  1  Club  is  gathering ;  has  declared  itself  a  "  Provisional  Munici- 

l^pality."  On  the  morrow  it  will  get  Provost  Flesselles,  with  an 
Echevin  or  two,  to  give  help  in  many  things.  For  the  present 
it  decrees  one  most  essential  thing:  that  forthwith  a  "  Parisian 
Militia  "  shall  be  enrolled.  Depart,  ye  heads  of  Districts,  to 
labor  in  this  great  work ;  while  we  here,  in  Permanent  Com- 
mittee, sit  alert.  Let  fencible  men,  each  party  in  its  own  range 
of  streets,  keep  watch  and  ward,  all  night.  Let  Paris  court  a 
little  fever-sleep ;  confused  by  such  fever-dreams,  of  "  violent 
motions  at  the  Palais  Royal ; " — or  from  time  to  time  start 
awake,  and  look  out,  palpitating,  in  its  nightcap,  at  the  clash  of 
discordant  mutually-unintelligible  Patrols ;  on  the  gleam  of  dis- 
tant Barriers,  going  up  ail-too  ruddy  towards  the  vault  of 
Night.fr 

Chapter  V. — Give  Us  Arms. 

On  Monday  the  huge  City  has  awoke,  not  to  its  week-day  in- 
dustry :  to  what  a  different  one !  The  working  man  has  become 
a  fighting  man  ;  has  one  want  only :  that  of  arms.  The  industry 
of  all  crafts  has  paused ; — except  it  be  the  smith's,  fiercely  ham- 
mering pikes ;  and,  in  a  faint  degree,  the  kitchener's,  cooking 
offhand  victuals  :  for  houche  va  toujoitrs.  Women  too  are  sew--\^ 
ing  cockades ; — not  now  of  green,  which  being  D'Artois  color,  J  ^ 
the  H6tel-de-Ville  has  had  to  interfere  in  it ;  but  of  red  and  blue, 
our  old  Paris  colors :  these,  once  based  on  a  ground  of  constitu- 
tional zvhite,  are  the  famed  Tricolor, — which  (if  Prophecy 
err  not)  "  will  go  round  the  world." 

All  shops,  unless  it  be  the  Bakers'  and  Vintners',  are  shut : 
Paris  is  in  the  streets; — rushing,  foaming  like  some  Venice 
wine-glass  into  which  you  had  dropped  poison.  The  tocsin,  by 
order,  is  pealing  madly  all  steeples.  Arms,  ye  Elector  Munici- 
pals ;  thou  Flesselles  with  thy  Echevins,  give  us  arms !  Fles- 
selles gives  what  he  can  ;  fallacious,  perhaps,  insidious  promises 
of  arms  from  Charlevillc  ;  order  to  seek  arms  here,  order  to  seek 
them  there.  The  new  jMunicipals  give  what  they  can ;  some 
three  hundred  and  sixty  indifferent  firelocks,  the  equipment  of 
the  City-Watch :  "  a  man  in  wooden  shoes,  and  without  coat, 
directly  clutches  one  of  them,  and  mounts  guard."     Also  as 

b  Deux  Amis,  i.  267-306. 


^ 


u 


156  CARLYLE  [1789 

hinted,  an  order  to  all  Smiths  to  make  pikes  with  their  whole 
soul. 
'  Heads  of  Districts  are  in  fervent  consultation ;  subordinate 
Patriotism  roams  distracted,  ravenous  for  arms.  Hitherto  at 
the  H6tel-de-VilIe  was  only  such  modicum  of  indifferent  fire- 
locks as  we  have  seen.  At  the  so-called  Arsenal,  there  lies 
nothing  but  rust,  rubbish  and  saltpetre, — overlooked  too  by  the 
guns  of  the  Bastille.  His  Majesty's  Repository,  what  they  call 
Gardc-M cubic,  is  forced  and  ransacked :  tapestries  enough,  and 
gauderies  ;  but  of  serviceable  fighting-gear  small  stock !  Two 
silver-mounted  cannons  there  are ;  an  ancient  gift  from  his 
Majesty  of  Siam  to  Louis  Fourteenth:  gilt  sword  of  the  Good 
Henri ;  antique  Chivalry  arms  and  armor.  These,  and  such  as 
these,  a  necessitous  Patriotism  snatches  greedily,  for  want  of 
better.  The  Siamese  cannons  go  trundling,  on  an  errand  they 
were  not  meant  for.  Among  the  indifferent  firelocks  are  seen 
tourney-lances ;  the  princely  helm  and  hauberk  glittering  amid 
ill-hatted  heads, — as  in  a  time  when  all  times  and  their  posses- 
sions are  suddenly  sent  jumbling! 

At  the  Maison  dc  Saint-Lazare,  Lazar-House  once,  now  a 
Correction-House  with  Priests,  there  was  no  trace  of  arms  ;  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  corn,  plainly  to  a  culpable  extent.  Out  with 
it,  to  market ;  in  this  scarcity  of  grains ! — Heavens,  will  "fifty- 
two  carts,"  in  long  rows,  hardly  carry  it  to  the  Halle  aiix  Blcds? 
Well,  truly,  ye  reverend  Fathers,  was  your  pantry  filled  ;  fat  are 
your  larders ;  over-generous  your  wine-bins,  ye  plotting  ex- 
asperators  of  the  Poor ;  traitorous  forestallers  of  bread ! 

Vain  is  protesting,  entreaty  on  bare  knees :  the  House  of 
Saint-Lazarus  has  that  in  it  which  comes  not  out  by  protesting. 
Behold,  how,  from  every  window,  it  vomits:  mere  torrents  of 
furniture,  of  bellowing  and  hurlyburly ; — the  cellars  also  leak- 
ing wine.  Till,  as  was  natural,  smoke  rose, — kindled,  some  say, 
by  the  desperate  Saint-Lazaristes  themselves,  desperate  of  other 
riddance ;  and  the  Establishment  vanished  from  this  world  in 
flame.  Remark  nevertheless  that  "  a  thief  "  (set  on  or  not  by 
Aristocrats),  being  detected  there,  is  "  instantly  hanged." 

Look  also  at  the  Chatelet  Prison.  The  Debtors'  Prison  of 
La  Force  is  broken  from  without ;  and  they  that  sat  in  bondage 
to  Aristocrats  go  free:  hearing  of  which  the  Felons  at  the 
Chatelet  do  likewise  "  dig  up  their  pavements,"  and  stand  on  the 
offensive ;  with  the  best  prospects, — had  not  Patriotism,  passing 


Julyisth]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  157 

that  way,  "  fired  a  volley  "  into  the  Felon  world ;  and  crushed 
it  down  again  under  hatches.  Patriotism  consorts  not  with 
thieving  and  felony :  surely  also  Punishment,  this  day,  hitches 
(if  she  still  hitch)  after  Crime,  with  frightful  shoes-of-swiftness  f 
"  Some  score  or  two  "  of  wretched  persons,  found  prostrate 
with  drink  in  the  cellars  of  that  Saint-Lazare,  are  indignantly 
haled  to  prison ;  the  Jailor  has  no  room ;  whereupon,  other  place 
of  security  not  suggesting  itself,  it  is  written,  "  on  les  pcndit, 
they  hanged  them."o  Brief  is  the  word ;  not  wathout  signifi- 
cance, be  it  true  or  untrue ! 

In  such  circumstances,  the  Aristocrat,  the  unpatriotic  rich 
man  is  packing-up  for  departure.  But  he  shall  not  get  depart- 
ed. A  wooden-shod  force  has  seized  all  Barriers,  burnt  or  not : 
all  that  enters,  all  that  seeks  to  issue,  is  stopped  there,  and 
dragged  to  the  PI6tel-de-Ville :  coaches,  tumbrils,  plate,  furni- 
ture, *'  many  meal-sacks,"  in  time  even  "  flocks  and  herds  "  en- 
cumber the  Place  de  Greve.& 

And  so  it  roars,  and  rages,  and  brays  ;  drums  beating,  steeples 
pealing,  criers  rushing  with  hand-bells :  "  Oyez,  oyez,  All  men 
to  their  Districts  to  be  enrolled !  "  The  Districts  have  met  in 
gardens,  open  squares ;  are  getting  marshalled  into  volunteer 
troops.  No  redhot  ball  has  yet  fallen  from  Besenval's  Camp ; 
on  the  contrary.  Deserters  with  their  arms  are  continually 
dropping  in :  nay  now,  joy  of  joys,  at  two  in  the  afternoon,  the 
Gardes  Frangaises,  being  ordered  to  Saint-Denis,  and  flatly 
.declining,  have  come  over  in  a  body !  It  is  a  fact  worth  many. 
Three  thousand  six  hundred  of  the  best  fighting  men,  with 
complete  accoutrement ;  with  cannoneers  even,  and  cannon ! 
Their  officers  are  left  standing  alone ;  could  not  so  much  as  suc- 
ceed in  "  Spiking  the  guns."  The  very  Swiss,  it  may  now  be 
hoped,  Chateau-Vieux  and  the  others,  will  have  doubts  about 
fighting. 

Our  Parisian  Militia, — which  some  think  it  were  better  to 
name  National  Guard, — is  prospering  as  heart  could  wish.  It 
promised  to  be  forty-eight  thousand ;  but  will  in  few  hours 
double  and  quadruple  that  number:  invincible,  if  we  had  only 
arms ! 

But  see,  the  promised  Charleville  Boxes,  marked  Arfillcrirf 
Here,  then,  are  arms  enough  ? — Conceive  the  blank  face  of  Pa- 

a  Histoire  Parlemcntairc,  ii.  96. 

b  Dusaulx,  Prise  de  la  Bastille,  p.  290. 


*-. 


158  CARLYLE  [1789 

triotism,  when  it  found  them  filled  with  rags,  foul  linen,  can- 
dle-ends, and  bits  of  wood !  Provost  of  the  Merchants,  how  is 
this  ?  Neither  at  the  Chatreux  Convent,  whither  we  were  sent 
with  signed  order,  is  there  or  ever  was  there  any  weapon  of 
war.  Nay  here,  in  this  Seine  Boat,  safe  under  tarpaulings  (had 
not  the  nose  of  Patriotism  been  of  the  finest),  are  "five  thou- 
sand-weight of  gunpowder ;  "  not  coming  i)i,  but  surreptitiously 
going  out!  What  meanest  thou,  Flesselles?  'Tis  a  tickhsh 
game,  that  of  "  amusing"  us.  Cat  plays  with  captive  mouse :^ 
but  mouse  with  enraged  cat,  with  enraged  National  Tiger?     J 

Meanwhile,  the  faster,  O  ye  black-aproned  Smiths,  smite; 
with  strong  arm  and  willing  heart.     This  man  and  that,  all 
stroke  from  head  to  heel,  shall  thunder  alternating,  and  ply  the 
great  forge-hammer,  till  stithy  reel  and  ring  again ;  while  ever 
and  anon,  overhead,  booms  the  alarm-cannon, — for  the  City  has 
now  got  gunpowder.     Pikes  are  fabricated;  fifty  thousand  ofn 
them,  in  six-and-thirty  hours ;  judge  whether  the  Black-aproned  i  W- 
have  been  idle.     Dig  trenches,  unpave  the  streets,  ye  others,- 
assiduous,  men  and  maid,  cram  the  earth  in  barrel-barricades, 
at  each  of  them  a  volunteer  sentry ;  pile  the  whinstones  in  win- 
dow-sills  and   upper   rooms.     Have   scalding   pitch,   at   least 
boiling  water  ready,  ye  weak  old  women,  to  pour  it  and  dash 
it  on  Royal-Allemand,  with  your  old  skinny  arms :  your  shrill 
curses  along  with  it  will  not  be  wanting ! — Patrols  of  the  new- 
born National  Guard,  bearing  torches,  scour  the  streets,  all  that 
night ;  which  otherwise  are  vacant,  yet  illuminated  in  every  win- 
dow by  order.     Strange-looking ;  like  some  naphtha-lighted  "7 
City  of  the  Dead,  with  here  and  there  a  flight  of  perturbed 
Ghosts. 

O  poor  mortals,  how  ye  make  this  Earth  bitter  for  each  other '; 
this  fearful  and  wonderful  Life  fearful  and  horrible ;  and  Satan 
has  his  place  in  all  hearts !  Such  agonies  and  ragings  and 
wailings  ye  have,  and  have  had,  in  all  times : — to  be  buried  all, 
in  so  deep  silence ;  and  the  salt  sea  is  not  swoln  with  your  tears. 

Great  meanwhile  is  the  moment,  when  tidings  of  Freedom 
reach  us ;  when  the  long-enthralled  soul,  from  amid  its  chains 
and  squalid  stagnancy,  arises,  were  it  still  only  in  blindness  and 
bewilderment,  and  swears  by  Him  that  made  it,  that  it  will  be 
freet  Free?  Understand  that  well,  it  is  the  deep  command- 
ment, dimmer  or  clearer,  of  our  whole  being,  to  be  jrce.  Free- 
dom is  the  one  purport,  wisely  aimed  at,  or  unwisely,  of  all 


Julyi3th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  159 

man's  struggles,  toilings  and  sufferings,  in  this  Earth.  Yes,  su- 
preme is  such  a  moment  (if  thou  have  known  it)  :  first  vision  as 
of  a  flame-girt  Sinai,  in  this  our  waste  Pilgrimage, — which 
thenceforth  wants  not  its  pillar  of  cloud  by  day,  and  pillar  of 
fire  by  night!  Something  it  is  even, — nay,  something  con- 
siderable, when  the  chains  have  grown  corrosive,  poisonous, — 
to  be  free  "  from  oppression  by  our  fellow-man."  Forward,  ye 
maddened  sons  of  France ;  be  it  toward  this  destiny  or  toward 
that !  Around  you  is  but  starvation,  falsehood,  corruption  and 
the  calm  of  death.    Where  ye  are  is  no  abiding. 

Imagination  may,  imperfectly,  figure  how  Commandant 
Besenval,  in  the  Champ-de-Mars,  has  worn  out  these  sorrowful 
hours.  Insurrection  raging  all  round ;  his  men  melting  away ! 
From  Versailles,  to  the  most  pressing  messages,  comes  no 
answer ;  or  once  only  some  vague  word  of  answer  which  is 
worse  than  none.  A  Council  of  Officers  can  decide  merely  that 
there  is  no  decision :  Colonels  inform  hmi,  "  weeping,"  that  they 
do  not  think  their  men  will  fight.  Cruel  uncertainty  is  here,- 
war-god  Broglie  sits  yonder,  inaccessible  in  his  Olympus ;  does 
not  descend  terror-clad,  does  not  produce  his  whifif  of  grape- 
shot  ;  sends  no  orders. 

Truly,  in  the  Chateau  of  Versailles  all  seems  mystery :  in  the 
Town  of  Versailles,  w^ere  we  there,  all  is  rumor,  alarm  and  in- 
dignation. An  august  National  Assembly  sits,  to  appearance, 
menaced  with  death ;  endeavoring  to  defy  death.  It  has  re- 
solved "  that  Necker  carries  with  him  the  regrets  of  the  Na- 
tion." It  has  sent  solemn  Deputation  over  to  the  Chateau,  with 
entreaty  to  have  these  troops  withdrawn.  In  vain :  his  AIajcsty,_ 
with  a  singular  composure,  invites  us  to  be  busy  rather  with  our 
own  duty,  making  the  Constitution !  Foreign  Pandours,  and 
suchlike,  go  pricking  and  prancing,  with  a  swashbuckler  air; 
with  an  eye  too  probably  to  the  Salle  des  Menus, — were  it  not 
for  the  "  grim-looking  countenances  "  that  crowd  all  avenues 
there.o  Be  firm,  ye  National  Senators;  the  cynosure  of  a  firm, 
grim-looking  people ! 

The  august  National  Senators  determine  that  there  shall,  at 
least,  be  Permanent  Session  till  this  thing  end.  Wherein, 
however,  consider  that  worthy  Lafranc  de  Pompignan,  our  new 
President,  whom  we  have  named  Bailly's  successor,  is  an  old 
man,  wearied  with  tnany  things.  He  is  the  Brother  of  that 
a  See  Lamcth ;  Fcrrieres,  &c. 


i6o  CARLYLE  [1789 

Pompignan  who  meditated  lamentably  on  the  Book  of  Lamen- 
tations: 

Savcs-vous  pourquoi  Jeremie 

Se  lamentait  toute  so  vie? 

C'cst  qu'il  prevoyait 

Que  Pompignan  le  traduirait! 

Poor  Bishop  Pompignan  withdraws ;  having  got  Lafayette  for 
helper  or  substitute :  this  latter,  as  nocturnal  Vice-President,  .' 
with  a  thin  house  in  disconsolate  humor,  sits  sleepless,  with  ; 
lights  unsnuffed ; — waiting  what  the  hours  will  bring. 

So  at  Versailles.  But  at  Paris,  agitated  Besenval,  before 
retiring  for  the  night,  has  stept  over  to  old  M,  de  Sombreuil, 
of  the  Hotel  des  Invalides  hard  by.  M.  de  Sombreuil  has,  what 
is  a  great  secret,  some  eight-and-twenty  thousand  stand  o^ 
muskets  deposited  in  his  cellars  there ;  but  no  trust  in  the 
temper  of  his  Invalides.  This  day,  for  example,  he  sent  twenty 
of  the  fellows  down  to  unscrew  those  muskets ;  lest  Sedition 
might  snatch  at  them :  but  scarcely,  in  six  hours,  had  the  twenty 
unscrewed  twenty  gun-locks,  or  dogheads  {chines)  of  locks, — 
each  Invalide  his  dogshead !  If  ordered  to  fire,  they  would, 
he  imagines,  turn  their  cannon  against  himself. 

Unfortunate  old  military  gentlemen,  it  is  your  hour,  not  of 
glory !  Old  Marguis  de  Launay  too,  of  the  Bastille,  has  pulled 
up  his  drawbridges  long  since,  "and  retired  into  his  interior;  | 
with  sentries  walking  on  his  battlements,  under  the  midnight 
sky,  aloft  over  the  glare  of  illuminated  Paris ; — whom  a  Na- 
tional Patrol,  passing  that  way,  takes  the  liberty  of  firing  at : 
"seven  shots  towards  twelve  at  night,"  which  do  not  take  ef¥ect.& 
This  was  the  13th  day  of  July  1789;  a  worse  day,  many  said, 
than  the  last  13th  was,  when  only  hail  fell  out  of  Heaven,  not 
madness  rose  out  of  Tophet,  ruining  worse  than  crops ! 

In  these  same  days,  as  Chronology  will  teach  us,  hot  old 
Marquis  Mirabeau  lies  stricken  down,  at  Argentcuil, — not  with- 
in sound  of  these  alarm-guns;  for  he  properly  is  not  there,  and 
only  the  body  of  him  now  lies,  deaf  and  cold  forever.  It  was  on 
Saturday  night  that  he,  drawing  his  last  life-breaths,  gave  up 
the  ghost  there ; — leaving  a  world,  which  would  never  go  to  his 
mind,  now  broken  out,  seemingly,  into  deliration  and  the 
culhute  gcncrale.  What  is  it  to  him,  departing  elsewhither,  on 
his  long  journey  ?  The  old  Chateau  Mirabeau  stands  silent,  far 
b  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberie,  i.  312. 


July  14th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  161 

off,  on  its  scarped  rock,  in  that  "  gorge  of  two  windy  valleys ;  " 
the  pale-fading  spectre  now  of  a  Chateau:  this  huge  World- 
riot,  and  France,  and  the  World  itself,  fades  also,  like  a  shadow 
on  the  great  still  mirror-sea ;  and  all  shall  be  as  God  wills. 

Young  Mirabeau,  sad  of  heart,  for  he  loved  this  crabbed 
brave  old  Father ;  sad  of  heart,  and  occupied  with  sad  cares, — is 
withdrawn  from  Public  History,  The  great  crisis  transacts 
itself  without  him.c 


Chapter  VI. — Storm  and  Victory. 

But,  to  the  living  and  the  struggling,  a  new  Fourteenth  morn- 
ing dawns.  Under  all  roofs  of  this  distracted  City  is  the  nodus 
of  a  drama,  not  untragical,  crowding  towards  solution.  The 
bustlings  and  preparings,  the  tremors  and  menaces;  the  tears 
that  fell  from  old  eyes !  This  day,  my  sons,  ye  shall  quit  you 
like  men.  By  the  memory  of  your  fathers'  wrongs,  by  the  hope 
of  your  children's  rights!  Tyranny  impends  in  red  wrath: 
help  for  you  is  none,  if  not  in  your  own  right  hands.  This  day 
ye  must  do  or  die. 

From  earliest  light,  a  sleepless  Permanent  Committee  has 
heard  the  old  cry,  now  waxing  almost  frantic,  mutinous :  Arms ! 
Arms !  Provost  Flesselles,  or  what  traitors  there  are  among 
you,  may  think  of  those  Charleville  Boxes.  A  hundred-and- 
fifty-thousand  of  us ;  and  but  the  third  man  furnished  with  so 
much  as  a  pike !  Arms  are  the  one  thing  needful ;  with  arms 
we  are  an  unconquerable  man-defying  National  Guard ;  with- 
out arms,  a  rabble  to  be  whiffed  with  grapeshot. 

Happily  the  word  has  arisen,  for  no  secret  can  be  kept, — that 
there  lie  muskets  at  the  Hotel  des  InvaUdes.  Thither  will  we : 
King's  Procureur  M.  Ethys  de  Corny,  and  whatsoever  of 
authority  a  Permanent  Committee  can  lend,  shall  go  with  us. 
Besenval's  Camp  is  there ;  perhaps  he  will  not  fire  on  us ;  if 
^he  kill  us,  we  shall  but  die. 

Alas,  poor  Besenval,  with  his  troops  melting  away  in  that 
manner,  has  not  the  smallest  humor  to  fire !  At  five  o'clock  this 
morning,  as  he  lay  dreaming,  oblivious  in  the  Ecolc  Militaire, 
a  "  figure  "  stood  suddenly  at  his  bedside ;  "  with  face  rather 
handsome  ;  eyes  inflamed,  speech  rapid  and  curt,  air  audacious :" 
such  a  figure  drew  Priam's  curtains!     The  message  and  mo- 

c  Fils  Adoptif,  Mirabeau,  vi.  1.  i. 
Vol.  I.— II 


1 62  CARLYLE  [1789 

nition  of  the  figure  was,  that  resistance  would  be  hopeless ;  that 
if  blood  flowed,  woe  to  him  who  shed  it.  Thus  spoke  the 
figure :  and  vanished.  "  Withal  there  was  a  kind  of  eloquence 
that  struck  one."  Besenval  admits  that  he  should  have  arrested 
him,  but  did  not.d  Who  this  figure  with  inflamed  eyes,  with 
speech  rapid  and  curt,  might  be?  Besenval  knows,  but  men- 
tions not.  Camille  Desmoulins?  Pythagorean  Marquis 
Valadi,  inflamed  with  "  violent  motions  all  night  at  the  Palais 
Royal  ?  "  Fame  names  him  "  Young  M.  Meillar ;  'V  then  shuts 
her  lips  about  him  forever. 

In  any  case,  behold,  about  nine  in  the  morning,  our  National 
Volunteers  rolhng  in  long  wide  flood  south-westward  to  the 
Hotel  des  Invalides;  in  search  of  the  one  thing  needful.  King's 
Procureur  M.  Ethys  de  Corny  and  officials  are  there ;  the  Cure 
of  Saint  Etienne  du  Mont  marches  unpacific  at  the  head  of 
his  militant  Parish ;  the  Clerks  of  the  Basoche  in  red  coats  we 
see  marching,  now  Volunteers  of  the  Basoche ;  the  Volunteers 
of  the  Palais  Royal : — National  Volunteers,  numerable  by  tens 
of  thousands  ;  of  one  heart  and  mind.  The  King's  muskets  are 
the  Nation's ;  think,  old  M.  de  Sombreuil,  how,  in  this  extremity, 
thou  wilt  refuse  them!  Old  M.  de  Sombreuil  would  fain  hold 
parley,  send  couriers ;  but  it  skills  not :  the  walls  are  scaled,  no 
Invalide  firing  a  shot ;  the  gates  must  be  flung  open.  Patriot- 
ism rushes  in,  tumultuous,  from  grunsel  up  to  ridge-tile, 
through  all  rooms  and  passages;  rummaging  distractedly  for 
arms.  What  cellar,  or  what  cranny  can  escape  it?  The  arms 
are  found ;  all  safe  there ;  lying  packed  in  straw, — apparently 
with  a  view  to  being  burnt !  More  ravenous  than  famishing 
lions  over  dead  prey,  the  multitude,  with  clangor  and  vocifera- 
tion, pounces  on  them;  struggling,  dashing,  clutching: — to  the 
jamming-up,  to  the  pressure,  fracture  and  probable  extinction 
of  the  weaker  Patriot.^  And  so,  with  such  protracted  crash  of 
deafening,  most  discordant  Orchestra-music,  the  Scene  is 
changed ;  and  eight-and-twenty  thousand  sufficient  firelocks  are 
on  the  shoulders  of  as  many  National  Guards,  lifted  thereby 
out  of  darkness  into  fiery  light. 

Let  Besenval  look  at  the  glitter  of  these  muskets,  as  they 

d  Besenval,  iii.  414. 

e  Tableaux  dc  la  Revolution,  Prise  de  la  Bastille  (a  folio  Collection  of 
Pictures  and  Portraits,  with  letter-press,  not  always  uninstructive. — 
part  of  it  said  to  be  by  Chamfort). 

f  Deux  Amis,  i.  302. 


July  14th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  163 

flash  by !  Gardes  Frangaises,  it  is  said,  have  cannon  levelled 
on  him ;  ready  to  open,  if  need  v^ere,  from  the  other  side  of  the 
River.^  Motionless  sits  he ;  "  astonished,"  one  may  flatter  one- 
self, "  at  the  proud  bearing  (i^crc  contcnance)  of  the  Pari- 
sians."— And  now,  to  the  Bastille,  ye  intrepid  Parisians !  There 
grapeshot  still  threatens:  thither  all  men's  thoughts  and  steps 
are  now  tending. 

Old  De  Launay,  as  we  hinted,  withdrew  "  into  his  interior  " 
soon  after  midnight  of  Sunday.  He  remains  there  ever  since, 
hampered,  as  all  military  gentlemen  now  are,  in  the  saddest  con- 
flict of  uncertainties.  The  H6tel-de-Ville  "  invites  him  to  ad- 
mit National  Soldiers,  which  is  a  soft  name  for  surrendering. 
On  the  otlier  hand.  His  Majesty's  orders  were  precise.  His 
garrison  is  but  eighty-two  old  Invalides,  reinforced  by  thirty- 
two  young  Swass ;  his  walls  indeed  are  nine  feet  thick,  he  has 
cannon  and  powder;  but,  alas,  only  one  day's  provision  of 
victuals.  The  city  too  is  French,  the  poor  garrison  mostly 
French.     Rigorous  old  De  Launay,  think  what  thou  wilt  do !  ^ 

All  morning,  since  nine,  there  has  been  a  cry  everywhere: 
To  the  Bastille  !  Repeated  "  deputations  of  citizens  "  have  been 
here,  passionate  for  arms ;  whom  De  Launay  has  got  dismissed 
by  soft  speeches  through  portholes.  Towards  noon.  Elector 
Thuriot  de  la  Rosiere  gains  admittance ;  finds  De  Launay  in- 
disposed for  surrender ;  nay  disposed  for  blowing  up  the  place 
rather.  Thuriot  mounts  with  him  to  the  battlements :  heaps  of 
paving-stones,  old  iron  and  missiles  lie  piled  ;  cannon  all  duly 
levelled;  in  every  embrasure  a  cannon, — only  drawn  back  a 
little !  But  outwards,  behold,  O  Thuriot,  how  the  multitude 
flows  on,  wclhng  through  every  street :  tocsin  furiously  pealing, 
all  drums  beating  the  gcncrale:  the  Suburb  Saint- Antoine  roll- 
ing hither-ward  wholly,  as  one  man!  Such  vision  (spectral  yet 
real)  thou,  O  Thuriot,  as  from  thy  Mount  of  Vision,  bcholdest 
in  this  moment :  prophetic  of  what  other  Phantasmagories,  and 
loud-gibbering  Spectral  Realities,  which  thou  yet  beholdest  not, 
but  shalt!  "Que  vottlea-voitsf"  said  De  Launay,  turning  pale 
at  the  sight,  with  an  air  of  reproach,  almost  of  menace.  "  Mon- 
sieur," said  Thuriot,  rising  into  the  moral-sublime,  "  what  mean 
yoiif  Consider  if  I  could  not  precipitate  bofh  of  us  from  this 
height," — say  only  a  hundred  feet,  exclusive  of  the  walled  ditch  ! 
Whereupon   De   Launay   fell   silent.     Thuriot   shows  himself 

g  Besenval,  iii.  416. 


i64  CARLYLE  [1789 

from  some  pinnacle,  to  comfort  the  multitude  becoming  sus- 
picious, fremescent :  then  descends ;  departs  with  protest ;  with 
warning  addressed  also  to  the  Invalides, — on  whom,  however, 
it  produces  but  a  mixed  indistinct  impression.  The  old  heads 
are  none  of  the  clearest ;  besides,  it  is  said,  De  Launay  has  been 
profuse  of  beverages  (prodigua  des  buissons).  They  think, 
they  will  not  fire, — if  not  fired  on,  if  they  can  help  it ;  but  must, 
on  the  whole,  be  ruled  considerably  by  circumstances. 

Woe  to  thee,  De  Launay,  in  such  an  hour,  if  thou  canst  not, 
taking  some  one  firm  decision,  rule  circumstances !  Soft 
speeches  will  not  serve ;  hard  grapeshot  is  questionable ;  but 
hovering  between  the  two  is  unquestionable.  Ever  wilder 
swells  the  tide  of  men ;  their  infinite  hum  waxing  ever  louder, 
into  imprecations,  perhaps  into  crackle  of  stray  musketry, — 
which  latter,  on  the  walls  nine  feet  thick,  cannot  do  execution. 
The  Outer  Drawbridge  has  been  lowered  for  Thuriot ;  new 
deputation  of  citizens  (it  is  the  third,  and  noisiest  of  all)  pene- 
trates that  way  into  the  Outer  Court ;  soft  speeches  producing 
no  clearance  of  these,  De  Launay  gives  fire  ;  pulls  up  his  Draw- 
bridge. A  slight  sputter ; — which  has  kindled  the  too  com- 
bustible chaos ;  made  it  a  roaring  fire-chaos !  Bursts  forth 
Insurrection,  at  sight  of  its  own  blood  (for  there  were  deaths 
by  that  sputter  of  fire),  into  endless  rolling  explosion  of 
musketry,  distraction,  execration ; — and  over  head,  from  the 
Fortress,  let  one  great  gun,  with  its  grapeshot,  go  booming,  to 
show  what  we  could  do.     The  Bastille  is  beseiged ! 

On,  then,  all  Frenchmen,  that  have  hearts  in  your  bodies ! 
Roar  with  all  your  throats,  of  cartilage  and  metal,  ye  Sons  of 
Liberty ;  stir  spasmodically  whatsoever  of  utmost  faculty  is  in 
you,  soul,  body,  or  spirit ;  for  it  is  the  hour !  Smite,  thou  Louis 
Tournay,  cartwright  of  the  Marais,  old-soldier  of  the  Regiment 
Dauphine ;  smite  at  that  Outer  Drawbridge  chain,  though  the 
fiery  hail  whistles  round  thee !  Never,  over  nave  or  felloe,  did 
thy  axe  strike  such  a  stroke.  Down  with  it,  man ;  down  with 
it  to  Orcus:  let  the  whole  accursed  Edifice  sink  thither,  and 
Tyranny  be  swallowed  up  forever !  Mounted,  some  say,  on  the 
roof  of  the  guard-room,  some  "  on  bayonets  stuck  into  joints  of 
the  wall,"  Louis  Tournay  smites,  brave  Aubin  Bonnemere  (also 
an  old  soldier)  seconding  him:  the  chain  yields,  breaks;  the 
huge  Drawbridge  slams  down,  thundering  {avec  fracas). 
Glorious ;  and  yet,  alas,  it  is  still  but  the  outworks.     The  Eight 


July  14th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  165 

grim  Towers,  with  their  InvaHde  musketry,  their  paving-stones 
and  cannon-mouths,  still  soar  aloft  intact ; — Ditch  yawning  im- 
passable, stone-faced ;  the  inner  Drawbridge  with  its  back  to- 
wards us :  the  Bastille  is  still  to  take ! 

To  describe  this  Siege  of  the  Bastille  (thought  to  be  one  of 
the  most  important  in  History)  perhaps  transcends  the  talent 
of  mortals.  Could  one  but,  after  infinite  reading,  get  to  under- 
stand so  much  as  the  plan  of  the  building !  But  there  is  open 
Esplanade,  at  the  end  of  the  Rue  Saint-Antoine ;  there  are  such 
Forecourts,  Cour  Avance,  Cour  de  I'Orme,  arched  Gateway 
(where  Louis  Tournay  now  fights)  ;  then  new  drawbridges, 
dormant-bridges,  rampant-bastions,  and  the  grim  Eight 
Towers :  a  labyrinthic  Mass,  high-frowning  there,  of  all  ages 
from  twenty  years  to  four  hundred  and  twenty ; — beleaguered, 
in  this  its  last  hour,  as  we  said,  by  mere  Chaos  come  again! 
Ordnance  of  all  calibres ;  throats  of  all  capacities ;  men  of  all 
plans,  every  man  his  own  engineer:  seldom  since  the  war  of 
Pygmies  and  Cranes  was  there  seen  so  anomalous  a  thing. 
Half-pay  Elie  is  home  for  a  suit  of  regimentals ;  no  one  would 
heed  him  in  colored  clothes :  half-pay  Hulin  is  haranguing 
Gardes  Franqaises  in  the  Place  de  Greve.  Frantic  Patriots 
pick  up  the  grapeshots;  bear  them,  still  hot  (or  seemingly  so), 
to  the  H6tel-de-Ville : — Paris,  you  perceive,  is  to  be  burnt ! 
Flesselles  is  ''  pale  to  the  very  lips ;  "  for  the  roar  of  the  multi- 
tude grows  deep.  Paris  wholly  has  got  to  the  acme  of  its 
frenzy ;  whirled,  all  ways,  by  panic  madness.  At  every  street- 
barricade,  there  whirls  simmering  a  minor  whirlpool, — 
strengthening  the  barricade,  since  God  knows  what  is  coming ; 
and  all  minor  whirlpools  play  distractedly  into  that  grand  Fire- 
Mahlstrom  which  is  lashing  round  the  Bastille. 

And  so  it  lashes  and  it  roars.  Cholat  the  wine-merchant 
has  become  an  impromptu  cannoneer.  See  Georget,  of  the 
Marine  Service,  fresh  from  Brest,  ply  the  King  of  Siam's 
cannon.  Singular  (if  we  were  not  used  to  the  like)  :  Georget 
lay,  last  night,  taking  his  ease  at  his  inn ;  the  King  of  Siam's 
cannon  also  lay,  knowing  nothing  of  him,  for  a  hundred  years. 
Yet  now,  at  the  right  instant,  they  have  got  together,  and 
discourse  eloquent  music.  For,  hearing  what  was  toward, 
Georget  sprang  from  the  Brest  diligence,  and  ran.  Gardes 
Franqaises  also  will  be  here,  with  real  artillery:  were  not 
the  walls  so  thick ! — Upwards  from  the  Esplanade,  horizon- 


1 66  CARLYLE  [1789 

tally  from  all  neighboring  roofs  and  windows,  flashes  one  ir- 
regular deluge  of  musketry,  without  effect.  The  Invalides 
lie  flat,  firing  comparatively  at  their  ease  from  behind  stone; 
hardly  through  portholes  show  the  tip  of  a  nose.  We  fall, 
shot ;    and  make  no  impression. 

Let  conflagration  rage;  of  whatsoever  is  combustible? 
Guard-rooms  are  burnt,  Invalides  m'ess-rooms.  A  distracted 
"  Pefukemaker  with  two  fiery  torches  "  is  for  burning  "  the 
saltpetres  of  the  Arsenal ;  " — had  not  a  woman  run  scream- 
ing ;  had  not  a  Patriot,  with  some  tincture  of  Natural  Philoso- 
phy, instantly  struck  the  wind  out  of  him  (butt  of  musket 
on  pit  of  stomach),  overturned  barrels,  and  stayed  the  de- 
vouring element.  A  young  beautiful  lady,  seized  escaping  in 
these  Outer  Courts,  and  thought  falsely  to  be  De  Launay's 
daughter  shall  be  burnt  in  De  Launay's  sight ;  she  lies  swooned 
on  a  paillasse:  but  again  a  Patriot,  it  is  brave  Aubin  Bonne- 
mere  the  old  soldier,  dashes  in,  and  rescues  her.  Straw  is 
burnt;  three  cartloads  of  it,  hauled  thither,  go  up  in  white 
smoke:  almost  to  the  choking  of  Patriotism  itself;  so  that 
Elie  had,  with  singed  brows,  to  drag  back  one  cart ;  and 
Reole  the  "  gigantic  haberdasher "  another.  Smoke  as  of 
Tophet ;  confusion  as  of  Babel ;  noise  as  of  the  Crack  of 
Doom ! 

Blood  flows ;  the  aliment  of  new  madness.  The  wounded 
are  carried  into  houses  of  the  Rue  Cerisaie ;  the  dying  leave 
their  last  mandate  not  to  yield  till  the  accursed  Stronghold 
fall.  And  yet,  alas,  how  fall  ?  The  walls  are  so  thick  !  Deputa- 
tions, three  in  number,  arrive  from  the  H6tel-de-Ville ;  Abbe 
Fauchet  (who  was  of  one)  can  say,  with  what  almost  super- _i 
human  courage  of  benevolence.^  These  wave  their  Town-flag 
in  the  arched  Gateway ;  and  stand,  rolling  their  drum ;  but 
to  no  purpose.  In  such  Crack  of  Doom,  De  Launay  cannot 
hear  them,  dare  not  believe  them:  they  return,  with  justified 
fage,  the  whew  of  lead  still  singing  in  their  ears.  What 
to  do?  The  Firemen  are  here,  squirting  with  their  fire-pumps 
on  the  Invalides  cannon,  to  wet  the  touchholes ;  they  unfor- 
tunately cannot  squirt  so  high  ;  but  produce  only  clouds  of 
spray.  Individuals  of  classical  knowledge  propose  catapults.  \./ 
Santerre,  the  sonorous  Brewer  of  the  Suburb  Saint-Antoine, 
advises  rather  that  the  place  be  fired,  by  a  "  mixture  of  phos- 
o  Fauchet's  Narrative  (Deux  Amis,  i.  324). 


Jalyuth]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  167 

phorus  and  oil-of-turpentine  spouted  up  through  forcing- 
pumps:"  O  Spinola  Santerre,  hast  thou  the  mixture  ready? 
Every  man  his  own  engineer !  And  still  the  fire-deluge  abates 
not :  even  women  are  firing,  and  Turks ;  at  least  one  woman 
(with  her  sweetheart),  and  one  Turk.^  Gardes  Fran(;aises 
have  come :  real  cannon,  real  cannoneers.  Usher  Maillard  is 
busy ;  half-pay  Elie,  half-pay  Hulin  rage  in  the  midst  of  thou- 
sands. 

How  the  great  Bastille  Clock  ticks  (inaudible)  in  its  Inner 
Court  there,  at  its  ease,  hour  after  hour ;  as  if  nothing  special, 
for  it  or  the  world,  were  passing !  It  tolled  One  when  the  firing 
began ;  and  is  now  pointing  towards  Five,  and  still  the  firing 
slakes  not. — Far  down,  in  their  vaults,  the  seven  Prisoners 
hear  muffled  din  as  of  earthquakes ;  their  Turnkeys  answer 
vaguely. 

Woe  to  thee,  De  Launay,  with  thy  poor  hundred  Invalides ! 
Broglie  is  distant,  and  his  ears  heavy :  Besenval  hears,  but 
can  send  no  help.  One  poor  troop  of  Hussars  has  crept,  recon- 
noitring, cautiously  along  the  Quais,  as  far  as  the  Pont  Neuf. 
"  We  are  come  to  join  you,"  said  the  Captain;  for  the  crowd 
seems  shoreless.  A  large-headed  dwarfish  individual,  of 
smoke-bleared  aspect,  shambles  forward,  opening  his  blue  lips, 
for  there  is  sense  in  him  ;  and  croaks :  "  Alight  then,  and  give 
up  your  arms !  "  The  Hussar-Captain  is  too  happy  to  be 
escorted  to  the  Barriers,  and  dismissed  on  parole.  Who  the 
squat  individual  was?  Men  answer.  It  is  M.  Marat,  author 
of  the  excellent  pacific  Avis  an  Pcuple!  Great  truly,  O  thou 
remarkable  Dogleech,  is  this  thy  day  of  emergence  and  new- 
birth  :  and  yet  this  same  day  come  four  years — ! — But  let  the 
curtains  of  the  Future  hang. 

What  shall  De  Launay  do?  One  thing  only  De  Launay 
could  have  done:  what  he  said  he  would  do.  Fancy  him 
sitting,  from  the  first,  with  lighted  taper,  within  arm's-length 
of  the  Powder-Magazine  ;  motionless,  like  old  Roman  Senator, 
or  Bronze  Lamp-holder ;  coldly  apprising  Thuriot,  and  all 
men,  by  a  slight  motion  of  his  eye,  what  his  resolution  was: 
— Harmless  he  sat  there,  while  unharmed ;  but  the  King's 
Fortress,  meanwhile,  could,  might,  would,  or  should  in  no- 
wise be  surrendered,  save  to  the  King's  Messenger:  one  old 
man's  life  is  worthless,  so  it  be  lost  with  honor ;  but  think, 
b  Deux  Amis,  i.  319;  Dusaulx,  &c. 


1 68  CARLYLE  [1789 

ye  brawling  canaille,  how  it  will  be  when  a  whole  Bastille 
springs  skyward ! — In  such  statuesque,  taper-holding  attitude, 
one  fancies  De  Launay  might  have  left  Thuriot,  the  red 
Clerks  of  the  Basoche,  Cure  of  Saint-Stephen  and  all  the  tag- 
rag-and-bobtail  of  the  world,  to  work  their  will. 

And  yet,  withal,  he  could  not  do  it.  Hast  thou  considered 
how  each  man's  heart  is  so  tremulously  responsive  to  the 
hearts  of  all  men ;  hast  thou  noted  how  omnipotent  is  the 
very  sound  of  many  men?  How  their  shriek  of  indignation 
palsies  the  strong  soul ;  their  howl  of  contumely  withers  with 
unfelt  pangs?  The  Ritter  Gluck  confessed  that  the  ground- 
tone  of  the  noblest  passage,  in  one  of  his  noblest  Operas,  was 
the  voice  of  the  Populace  he  had  heard  at  Vienna,  crying  to  their 
Kaiser :  Bread !  Bread  !  Great  is  the  combined  voice  of  men ; 
the  utterance  of  their  instincts,  which  are  truer  than  their 
thoughts:  it  is  the  greatest  a  man  encounters,  among  the 
sounds  and  shadows  which  make  up  this  World  of  Time. 
He  who  can  resist  that,  has  his  footing  somewhere  beyond 
Time.  De  Launay  could  not  do  it.  Distracted,  he  hovers 
between  two;  hopes  in  the  middle  of  despair;  surrenders  not 
his  Fortress ;  declares  that  he  will  blow  it  up,  seizes  torches 
to  blow  it  up,  and  does  not  blow  it.  Unhappy  old  De  Launay, 
it  is  the  death-agony  of  thy  Bastille  and  thee !  Jail,  Jailoring 
and  Jailor,  all  three,  such  as  they  may  have  been,  must  finish. 

For  four  hours  now  has  the  World-Bedlam  roared :  call  it 
the  World-Chima^ra,  blowing  fire !  The  poor  Invalides  have 
sunk  under  their  battlements,  or  rise  only  with  reversed  mus- 
kets :  they  have  made  a  white  flag  of  napkins ;  go  beating  the 
chamade,  or  seeming  to  beat,  for  one  can  hear  nothing.  The 
very  Swiss  at  the  Portcullis  look  weary  of  firing;  disheart- 
ened in  the  fire-deluge:  a  porthole  at  the  drawbridge  is 
opened,  as  by  one  that  would  speak.  See  Huissier  Maillard, 
the  shifty  man !  On  this  plank,  swinging  over  the  abyss  of 
that  stone  Ditch ;  plank  resting  on  parapet,  balanced  by 
weight  of  Patriots, — he  hovers  perilous :  such  a  Dove  to- 
wards such  an  Ark!  Deftly  thou  shifty  Usher:  one  man 
already  fell ;  and  lies  smashed,  far  down  there,  against  the 
masonry!  Usher  Maillard  falls  not;  deftly,  unerring  he 
walks,  with  outspread  palm.  The  Swiss  holds  a  paper  through 
his  porthole;  the  shifty  Usher  snatches  it,  and  returns.  Terms 
of  surrender :    Pardon,  immunity  to  all !    Are  they  accepted  ? 


July  14th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  169 

— "  Foi  d'ofRcier,  On  the  word  of  an  officer,"  answers  half- 
pay  Huhn, — or  half-pay  Elie,  for  men  do  not  agree  on  it, — • 
"  they  are !  "  Sinks  the  drawbridge, — Usher  Maillard  bolt- 
ing it  when  down ;  rushes-in  the  living  deluge :  the  Bastille 
is  fallen!     Victoire!     La  Bastille  est  prise '.a 


Chapter  VII.— Not  a  Revolt. 

Why  dwell  on  what  follows?  Hulin's  foi  d'oMcier  should 
have  been  kept,  but  could  not.  The  Swiss  stand  drawn  up, 
disguised  in  white  canvas  smocks ;  the  Invalides  without  dis- 
guise ;  their  arms  all  piled  against  the  wall.  The  first  rush 
of  victors,  in  ecstasy  that  the  death-peril  is  passed,  "  leaps 
joyfully  on  their  necks;"  but  new  victors  rush,  and  ever  new, 
also  in  ecstasy  not  wholly  of  joy.  As  we  said,  it  was  a  living 
deluge,  plunging  headlong:  had  not  the  Gardes  Frangaises, 
in  their  cool  military  way,  "  wheeled  round  with  arms  levelled," 
it  would  have  plunged  suicidally,  by  the  hundred  or  the  thou- 
sand, into  the  Bastille-ditch. 

And  so  it  goes  plunging  through  court  and  corridor ;  bil- 
lowing uncontrollable,  firing  from  windows — on  itself ;  in  hot 
frenzy  of  triumph,  of  grief  and  vengeance  for  its  slain.  The 
poor  Invalides  will  fare  ill ;  one  Swiss,  running  off  in  his 
white  smock,  is  driven  back,  with  a  death-thrust.  Let  all 
Prisoners  be  marched  to  the  Townhall,  to  be  judged ! — Alas, 
already  one  poor  Invalide  has  his  right  hand  slashed  off  him ; 
his  maimed  body  dragged  to  the  Place  de  Greve  and  hanged 
there.  This  same  right  hand,  it  is  said,  turned  back  De  Launay 
from  the  Powder-Magazine,  and  saved  Paris. 

De  Launay,  "  discovered  in  gray  frock  with  poppy-colored 
riband,"  is  for  killing  himself  with  the  sword  of  his  cane. 
He  shall  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville ;  Hulin,  Maillard  and  others 
escorting  him  ;  Elie  marching  foremost  "  with  the  capitulation- 
paper  on  his  sword's  point."  Through  roarings  and  cursings ; 
through  bustlings,  clutchings,  and  at  last  through  strokes ! 
Your  escort  is  hustled  aside,  felled  down ;  Hulin  sinks  ex- 
I  hausted  on  a  heap  of  stones.  Miserable  De  Launay !  He 
shall  never  enter  the  H6tcl-dc-Ville :    only  his  "bloody  hair- 

a  Histoirc  dc  la  Revolution,  par  Deux  Amis  dc  la  Libertc,  i.  267-,io6; 
Bcscnval,  iii.  410-434;  Dnsaiilx,  Prise  de  la  Bastille,  201-301;  Baiily, 
Mcinoircs  {Collection  dc  Bcrvillc  et  Barricre),  i.  322  et  scqq. 


170 


CARLYLE  [r789 


queue,  held  up  in  a  bloody  hand ;"  that  shall  enter,  for  a  sign. 
The  bleeding  trunk  lies  on  the  steps  there;  the  head  is  off 
through  the  streets;   ghastly,  aloft  on  a  pike. 

Rigorous  De  Launay  has  died;  crying  out,  "  O  friends, 
kill  me  fast!"  Merciful  De  Losnie  must  die;  though  Grati- 
tude embraces  him,  in  this  fearful  hour,  and  will  die  for  him; 
it  avails  not.  Brothers,  your  wrath  is  cruel!  Your  Place  de 
Greve  is  become  a  Throat  of  the  Tiger;  full  of  mere  fierce 
bellowings,  and  thirst  of  blood.  One  other  officer  is  massacred ; 
one  other  Invalide  is  hanged  on  the  Lamp-iron;  with  diffi- 
culty, with  generous  perseverance,  the  Gardes  Franqaises  will 
save  the  rest.  Provost  Flesselles,  stricken  long  since  with  the 
paleness  of  death,  must  descend  from  his  seat,  "  to  be  judged 
at  the  Palais  Royal:" — alas,  to  be  shot  dead,  by  an  unknown 
hand,  at  the  turning  of  the  first  street ! — 

O  evening  sun  of  July,  how,  at  this  hour,  thy  beams  fall 
slant  on  reapers  amid  peaceful  woody  fields ;  on  old  women 
spinning  in  cottages ;  on  ships  far  out  in  the  silent  main ; 
on  Balls  at  the  Orangerie  of  Versailles,  where  high-rouged 
Dames  of  the  Palace  are  even  now  dancing  with  double- 
jacketed  Hussar-Officers; — and  also  on  this  roaring  Hell- 
porch  of  a  H6tel-de-Ville !  Babel  Tower,  with  the  confusion 
of  tongues,  were  not  Bedlam  added  with  the  conflagration  of 
thoughts,  was  no  type  of  it.  One  forest  of  distracted  steel- 
bristles,  endless,  in  front  of  an  Electoral  Committee;  points 
itself,  in  horrid  radii,  against  this  and  the  other  accused  breast. 
It  was  the  Titans  warring  with  Olympus ;  and  they,  scarcely 
crediting  it,  have  conquered:  prodigy  of  prodigies;  delirious, 
— as  it  could  not  but  be.  Denunciation,  vengeance ;  blaze  of 
triumph  on  a  dark  ground  of  terror;  all  outward,  all  inward 
things   fallen   into  one  general   wreck  of  madness ! 

Electoral  Committee?  Had  it  a  thousand  throats  of  brass, 
it  would  not  suffice.  Abbe  Lefevre,  in  the  Vaults  down  below, 
is  black  as  Vulcan,  distributing  that  "  five  thousand-weight 
of  Powder;"  with  what  perils,  these  eight-and-forty  hours! 
Last  night,  a  Patriot,  in  liquor,  insisted  on  sitting  to  smoke 
on  the  edge  of  one  of  the  Powder-barrels:  there  smoked  he, 
independent  of  the  world, — till  the  Abbe  "  purchased  his  pipe 
for  three  francs,"  and  pitched  it  far. 

Elie,  in  the  grand  Hall,  Electoral  Committee  looking  on, 
sits  "  with  drawn  sword  bent  in  three  places ;  "  with  battered 


July  1 4th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  171 

helm,  for  he  was  of  the  Queen's  Regiment,  Cavalry ;  with 
torn  regimentals,  face  singed  and  soiled;  comparable,  some 
think,  to  "an  antique  warrior;" — judging  the  people;  form- 
ing a  list  of  Bastille  Heroes.  O  Friends,  stain  not  with  blood 
the  greenest  laurels  ever  gained  in  this  world.  Such  is  the 
burden  of  Elie's  song:  could  it  but  be  listened  to.  Courage, 
Elie !  Courage,  ye  Municipal  Electors !  A  declining  sun ; 
the  need  of  victuals,  and  of  telling  news,  will  bring  assuage- 
ment, dispersion:  all  earthly  things  must  end. 
|~  Along  the  streets  of  Paris  circulate  Seven  Bastille  Pris- 
/*■'  ;  oners,  borne  shoulder-high ;  seven  Heads  on  pikes ;  the  Keys 
-  of  the  Bastille ;  and  much  else.  See  also  the  Gardes  Fran- 
gaises,  in  their  steadfast  military  way,  marching  home  to  their 
barracks,  with  the  Invalides  and  Swiss  kindly  enclosed  in  hol- 
low square.  It  is  one  year  and  two  months  since  these  same 
men  stood  unparticipating,  with  Brennus  d'Agoust  at  the 
Palais  de  Justice,  w^hen  Fate  overtook  D'Espremenil ;  and 
now  they  have  participated ;  and  will  participate.  Not  Gardes 
Franqaises  henceforth,  but  Centre  Grenadiers  of  the  National 
Guard:  men  of  iron  discipline  and  humor, — not  without  a 
kind  of  thought  in  them ! 

Likewise  ashlar  stones  of  the  Bastille  continue  thundering 
through  the  dusk ;  its  paper  archives  shall  fly  white.  Old 
secrets  come  to  view ;  and  long-buried  Despair  finds  voice. 
Read  this  portion  of  an  old  Letter :«  "  If  for  my  consolation 
Monseigneur  would  grant  me,  for  the  sake  of  God  and  the 
Most  Blessed  Trinity,  that  I  could  have  news  of  my  dear  wife ; 
were  it  only  her  name  on  a  card,  to  show  that  she  is  alive! 
It  were  the  greatest  consolation  I  could  receive ;  and  I  should 
forever  bless  the  greatness  of  Monseigneur."  Poor  Prisoner, 
who  namest  thyself  Qncret-Danery,  and  hast  no  other  history, 
— she  is  dead,  that  dear  wife  of  thine,  and  thou  art  dead ! 
'Tis  fifty  years  since  thy  breaking  heart  put  this  question ;  to 
be  heard  now  first,  and  long  heard,  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

But  so  does  the  July  twilight  thicken ;  so  must  Paris,  as 
sick  children,  and  all  distracted  creatures  do,  brawl  itself 
finally  into  a  kind  of  sleep.  Municipal  Electors,  astonished 
to  find  their  heads  still  uppermost,  arc  home :  only  ]\Iorcau  de 
Saint-Mery,  of  tropical  birth  and  heart,  of  coolest  judgment; 

a  Dated  a  la  Bastille,  7  Octohrc  1752:  sii^iird  Qiu'i-t't-OriiuTy.    Bcistillc 
DevoiUc;  in  Linguct,  Manoircs  siir  la  Ihislillc  (Paris,  i8ji),  p.  199. 


172  CARLYLE  [1789 

he,  with  two  others,  shall  sit  permanent  at  the  Townhall. 
Paris  sleeps ;  gleams  upward  the  illuminated  City :  patrols 
go  clashing,  without  common  watchword ;  there  go  rumors ; 
alarms  of  war,  to  the  extent  of  "  fifteen  thousand  men  march- 
ing through  the  Suburb  Saint-Antoine," — who  never  got  it 
marched  through.  Of  the  day's  distraction  judge  by  this  of 
the  night :  Moreau  de  Saint-Mery,  "  before  rising  from  his 
seat,  gave  upwards  of  three  thousand  orders. "^  What  a  head ; 
comparable  to  Friar  Bacon's  Brass  Head !  Within  it  lies  all 
Paris.  Prompt  must  the  answer  be,  right  or  wrong;  in  Paris 
is  no  other  Authority  extant.  Seriously,  a  most  cool  clear 
head ; — for  which  also  thou,  O  brave  Saint-Mery,  in  many 
capacities,  from  august  Senator  to  Merchant's  Clerk,  Book- 
dealer,  Vice-King ;  in  many  places,  from  Virginia  to  Sardinia, 
shalt,  ever  as  a  brave  man,  find  employment.^ 

Besenval  has  decamped,  under  cloud  of  dusk,  "  amid  a 
great  efifluence  of  people,"  who  did  not  harm  him  ;  he  marches, 
with  faint-growing  tread,  down  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine, 
all  night, — towards  infinite  space.  Re-summoned  shall  Besen- 
val himself  be ;  for  trial,  for  difftcult  acquittal.  His  King's- 
troops,  his  Royal-Allemand,  are  gone  hence  forever. 

The  Versailles  Ball  and  lemonade  is  done ;  the  Orangerie 
is  silent  except  for  nightbirds.  Over  in  the  Salle  des  Menus 
Vice-President  Lafayette,  with  unsnuffed  lights,  "  with  some 
Hundred  or  so  of  Members,  stretched  on  tables  round  him," 
sits  erect ;  outwatching  the  Bear.  This  day,  a  second  solemn 
Deputation  went  to  his  Majesty;  a  second,  and  then  a  third: 
with  no  efifect.     What  will  the  end  of  these  things  be? 

In  the  Court,  all  is  mystery,  not  without  whisperings  of 
terror;  though  ye  dream  of  lemonade  and  epaulettes,  ye 
foolish  women !  His  Majesty,  kept  in  happy  ignorance,  per- 
haps dreams  of  double-barrels  and  the  Woods  of  Meudon. 
Late  at  night,  the  Duke  de  Liancourt,  having  ofificial  right  of 
entrance,  gains  access  to  the  Royal  Apartments,  unfolds,  with 
earnest  clearness,  in  his  constitutional  way,  the  Job's-news. 
"  Mais,"  said  poor  Louis,  "  c'cst  une  rcvolte,  Why,  that  is  a 
revolt !  " — Sire,"  answered  Liancourt,  "  it  is  not  a  revolt, — 
it   is  a   revolution." 

h  Dusaulx. 

c  Biographic  Universelle,  §  Moreau  Saint-Mery  (by  Fournier-Pescay). 


Julyisth]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  173 


Chapter  VIII. — Conquering  Your  King. 

On  the  morrow  a  fourth  Deputation  to  the  Chateau  is  on 
foot :  of  a  more  solemn,  not  to  say  awful  character ;  for,  be- 
sides "  orgies  in  the  Orangerie,"  it  seems  "  the  grain-convoys 
are  all  stopped ;"  nor  has  Mirabeau's  thunder  been  silent. 
Such  Deputation  is  on  the  point  of  setting  out, — when  lo,  his 
Majesty  himself,  attended  only  by  his  two  Brothers,  steps  in; 
quite  in  the  paternal  manner ;  announces  that  the  troops,  and 
all  causes  of  offence,  are  gone,  and  henceforth  there  shall  be 
nothing  but  trust,  reconcilement,  goodwill ;  whereof  he  "  per- 
mits, and  even  requests,"  a  National  Assembly  to  assure  Paris 
in  his  name.  Acclamation,  as  of  men  suddenly  delivered  from 
death,  gives  answer.  The  whole  Assembly  spontaneously  rises 
to  escort  his  Majesty  back ;  "  interlacing  their  arms  to  keep- 
off  the  excessive  pressure  from  him ;"  for  all  Versailles  is 
crowding  and  shouting.  The  Chateau  Musicians,  with  a  felici- 
tous promptitude,  strike  up  the  Sein  de  sa  Famille  (Bosom 
of  one's  Family)  :  the  Queen  appears  at  the  Balcony  with  her 
little  boy  and  girl,  "  kissing  them  several  times ;"  infinite 
Vivats  spread  far  and  wide, — and  suddenly  there  has  come, 
as  it  were,  a  new  Heaven-on-Earth. 

Eighty-eight  august  Senators,  Bailly,  Lafayette  and  our 
repentant  Archbishop  among  them,  take  coach  for  Paris,  with 
the  great  intelligence ;  benedictions  without  end  on  their 
heads.  From  the  Place  Louis  Quinze,  where  they  alight,  all 
the  way  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  it  is  one  sea  of  Tricolor  cock- 
ades, of  clear  National  muskets ;  one  tempest  of  huzzaings, 
hand-clappings,  aided  by  "  occasional  rollings  "  of  drum-music. 
Harangues  of  due  fervor  are  delivered ;  especially  by  Lally 
Tollendal,  pious  son  of  the  ill-fated  murdered  Lally ;  on  \vhose 
head,  in  consequence,  a  civic  crown  (of  oak  or  parsley)  is 
forced, — which  he  forcibly  transfers  to  Bailly's. 
'  But  surely,  for  one  thing,  the  National  Guard  should  have 
a  General !  Moreau  de  Saint-Mery,  he  of  the  "  three  thou- 
sand orders,"  casts  one  of  his  significant  glances  on  the  Bust 
of  Lafayette,  which  has  stood  there  ever  since  the  American 
War  of  Liberty.  Whereupon,  by  acclamation.  Lafayette  is 
nominated.  Again,  in  room  of  the  slain  traitor  or  quasi- 
traitor  Flesselles,  President  Bailly  shall  be — Provost  of  the 


174  CARLYLE  [1789 

Merchants?  No:  Mayor  of  Paris!  So  be  it.  Maire  de 
Paris!  Mayor  Bailly,  General  Lafayette:  Vive  Bailly,  vive 
Lafayette!  the  universal  out-of-doors  multitude  rends  the 
welkin  in  confirmation. — And  now,  finally,  let  us  to  Notre- 
Dame  for  a  Te  Daim. 

Towards  Notre-Dame  Cathedral,  in  glad  procession,  these 
Regenerators  of  the  Country  walk,  through  a  jubilant  people; 
in  fraternal  manner ;  Abbe  Lefevre,  still  black  with  his  gun- 
powder services,  walking  arm  in  arm  with  the  white-stoled 
Archbishop.  Poor  Bailly  comes  upon  the  Foundling  Children, 
sent  to  kneel  to  him;  and  "weeps."  Te  Dcuin,  our  Arch- 
bishop officiating,  is  not  only  sung,  but  shot, — with  blank 
cartridges.  Our  joy  is  boundless,  as  our  woe  threatened  to 
be.  Paris,  by  her  own  pike  and  musket,  and  the  valor  of  her 
own  heart,  has  conquered  the  very  war-gods, — to  the  satis- 
faction now  of  Majesty  itself.  A  courier  is,  this  night,  getting 
under  way  for  Necker :  the  People's  Minister,  invited  back 
by  King,  by  National  Assembly,  and  Nation,  shall  traverse 
France  amid  shoutings,  and  the  sound  of  trumpet  and  timbrel. 

Seeing  which  course  of  things,  Messeigneurs  of  the  Court 
Triumvirate,  Messieurs  of  the  dead-born  Broglie  Ministry,  and 
others  such,  consider  that  their  part  also  is  clear:  to  mount 
and  ride.  Ofif,  ye  too-royal  Broglies,  Polignacs  and  Princes  of 
the  Blood;  ofif  while  it  is  yet  time!  Did  not  the  Palais  Royal, 
in  its  late  nocturnal  "  violent  motions,"  set  a  specific  price 
(place  of  payment  not  mentioned)  on  each  of  your  heads? 
— With  precautions,  with  the  aid  of  pieces  of  cannon  and 
regiments  that  can  be  depended  on,  Messeigneurs,  between 
the  1 6th  night  and  17th  morning,  get  to  their  several  roads. 
Not  without  risk!  Prince  Conde  has  (or  seems  to  have) 
"men  galloping  at  full  speed:"  with  a  view,  it  is  thought, 
to  fling  him  into  the  river  Oise,  at  Pont-Sainte-Mayence.a 
The  Polignacs  travel  disguised :  friends,  not  servants,  on 
their  coach-box.  Broglie  has  his  own  difficulties  at  Versailles, 
runs  his  own  risks  at  Metz  and  Verdun ;  does  nevertheless 
get  safe  to  Luxemburg,  and  there  rests. 

This  is  what  they  call  the  First  Emigration ;  determined 
on,  as  appears,  in  full  Court-conclave;  his  Majesty  assisting; 
prompt  he,  for  his  share  of  it,  to  follow  any  counsel  whatso- 
ever.   "  Three  Sons  of  France,  and  four  Princes  of  the  blood 

o  Weber,  ii.  126. 


V 


Julyi7th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  175 

of  St.  Louis,"  says  Weber,  "  could  not  more  effectually  humble 
the  Burghers  of  Paris  than  by  appearing  to  withdraw  in  fear 
of  their  life."  Alas,  the  Burghers  of  Paris  bear  it  with  unex- 
pected stoicism !  The  Man  D'Artois  indeed  is  gone ;  but  has 
he  carried,  for  example,  the  Land  D'Artois  with  him?  Not 
even  Bagatelle  the  Country-house  (which  shall  be  useful  as  a 
Tavern)  ;  hardly  the  four- valet  Breeches,  leaving  the  Breeches- 
maker'! — As  for  old  Foulon,  one  learns  that  he  is  dead;  at 
least  "  a  sumptuous  funeral  "  is  going  on ;  the  undertakers 
honoring  him,  if  no  other  will.  Intendant  Berthier,  his  son- 
in-law,  is  still  living ;  lurking :  he  joined  Besenval,  on  that 
Eumenides  Sunday;  appearing  to  treat  it  with  levity;  and 
is  now  fled  no  man  knows  whither. 

The  Emigration  is  not  gone  many  miles.   Prince   Conde 
hardly  across  the  Oise,  when  his  Majesty,  according  to  ar- 
rangement, for  the  Emigration  also  thought  it  might  do  good, 
— undertakes  a  rather  daring  enterprise :  that  of  visiting  Paris 
in  person.     With  a  Hundred  Members  of  Assembly;    with^ 
small   or  no  military  escort,   which   indeed   he   dismissed   at  ■ 
the  Bridge  of  Sevres,  poor  Louis  sets  out ;   leaving  a  desolate 
Palace;    a  Queen  weeping,  the   Present,   the   Past   and  the. 
Future  all  so  unfriendly  for  her. 

At  the  Barrier  of  Passy,  Mayor  Bailly,  in  grand  gala,  pre- 
sents him  with  the  keys ;  harangues  him,  in  Academic  style ; 
mentions  that  it  is  a  great  day ;  that  in  Henri  Quatre's  case, 
the  King  had  to  make  conquest  of  his  People ;  but  in  this 
happier  case,  the  People  makes  conquest  of  its  King  (o  con- 
quis  son  Roi).  The  King,  so  happily  conquered,  drives  for- 
ward, slowly,  through  a  steel  people,  all  silent,  or  shouting 
only  Vive  la  Nation;  is  harangued  at  the  Townhall  by  Moreau 
of  the  three  thousand  orders,  by  King's  Procureur  M.  Ethys 
de  Corny,  by  Lally  Tollendal,  and  others ;  knows  not  what 
to  think  of  it  or  say  of  it ;  learns  that  he  is  "  Restorer  of 
French  Liberty," — as  a  Statue  of  him,  to  be  raised  on  the 
site  of  the  Bastille,  shall  testify  to  all  men.  Finally,  he  is 
shown  at  the  Balcony,  with  a  Tricolor  cockade  in  his  hat ; 
is  greeted  now,  with  vehement  acclamation,  from  Square  and 
Street,  from  all  windows  and  roofs : — and  so  drives  home 
again  amid  glad  mingled  and,  as  it  were,  intermarried  shouts, 
of  Viz'c  Ic  Roi  and  Vii'C  la  Nation;  wearied  but  safe. 

It  was  Sunday  when  the  red-hot  balls  hung  over  us,  in 


176  CARLYLE  [1789 

mid  air:  it  is  now  but  Friday,  and  "the  Revolution  is  sanc- 
tioned." An  august  National  Assembly  shall  make  the  Con- 
stitution ;  and  neither  foreign  Pandour,  domestic  Triumvirate, 
with  levelled  Cannon,  Guy-Faux  powder-plots  (for  that  too 
was  spoken  of)  ;  nor  any  tyrannic  Power  on  the  Earth  or 
under  the  Earth,  shall  say  to  it.  What  dost  thou? — So  jubi- 
lates the  People ;  sure  now  of  a  Constitution.  Cracked  Mar- 
quis Saint-Huruge  is  heard  under  the  windows  of  the  Cha- 
teau;   murmuring  sheer  speculative-treason.c 


Chapter  IX. — The  Lanterne. 

The  Fall  of  the  Bastille  may  be  said  to  have  shaken  all 
France  to  the  deepest  foundations  of  its  existence.  The  rumor 
of  these  wonders  flies  everywhere :  with  the  natural  speed  of 
Rumor ;  with  an  effect  thought  to  be  preternatural,  produced 
by  plots.  Did  D'Orleans  or  Laclos,  nay  did  Mirabeau  (not 
overburdened  with  money  at  this  time)  send  riding  Couriers 
out  from  Paris ;  to  gallop  "  on  all  radii,"  or  highways,  to- 
wards all  points  of  France?  It  is  a  miracle,  which  no  pene- 
trating man  will  call  in  question. c? 

Already  in  most  Towns,  Electoral  Committees  were  met ; 
to  regret  Necker,  in  harangue  and  resolution.  In  many  a 
Town,  as  Rennes,  Caen,  Lyons,  an  ebullient  people  was  already 
regretting  him  in  brickbats  and  musketry.  But  now,  at  every 
Town's-end  in  France,  there  do  arrive,  in  these  days  of  terror, 
— "  men,"  as  men  will  arrive ;  nay  "  men  on  horseback,"  since 
Rumor  oftenest  travels  riding.  These  men  declare,  with 
alarmed  countenance.  The  Brigands  to  be  coming,  to  be  just 
at  hand ;  and  do  then — ride  on,  about  their  further  business, 
be  what  it  might!  Whereupon  the  whole  population  of  such 
Town  defensively  flies  to  arms.  Petition  is  soon  thereafter 
forwarded  to  National  Assembly ;  in  such  peril  and  terror  of 
peril,  leave  to  organize  yourself  cannot  be  withheld:  the 
armed  population  becomes  everywhere  an  enrolled  National 
Guard.  Thus  rides  Rumor,  careering  along  all  radii,  from 
Paris  outwards,  to  such  purpose :  in  few  days,  some  say  in 
not  many  hours,  all  France  to  the  utmost  borders  bristles  with 
bayonets.     Singular,  but   undeniable, — miraculous  or  not ! — 

c  Campan,  ii.  46-64.  d  Toulongeon,  i.  95 ;  Weber,  &c.  &c. 


July22d]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  177 

But  thus  may  any  chemical  liquid,  though  cooled  to  the  freez- 
ing-point, or  far  lower,  still  continue  liquid ;  and  then,  on  the 
slightest  stroke  or  shake,  it  at  once  rushes  wholly  into  ice. 
Thus  has  France,  for  long  months  and  even  years,  been  chemi- 
cally dealt  with ;  brought  below  zero ;  and  now,  shaken  by 
the  Fall  of  a  Bastille,  it  instantaneously  congeals:  into  one 
crystallized  mass,  of  sharp-cutting  steel !  Guai  a  chi  la  tocca, 
'Ware  who  touches  it! 

In  Paris,  an  Electoral  Committee,  with  a  new  Mayor  and 
General,  is  urgent  with  belligerent  workmen  to  resume  their 
handicrafts.  Strong  Dames  of  the  Market  {Dames  de  la  Halle) 
deliver  congratulatory  harangues ;  present  "  bouquets  to  the 
Shrine  of  Sainte  Genevieve."  Unenrolled  men  deposit  their 
arms, — not  so  readily  as  could  be  wished :  and  receive  "  nine 
francs."  With  Te  Deiims,  Royal  Visits,  and  sanctioned  Revo- 
lution, there  is  halcyon  weather;  weather  even  of  preter- 
natural brightness;    the  hurricane  being  overblown. 

Nevertheless,  as  is  natural,  the  waves  still  run  high,  hol- 
low rocks  retaining  their  murmur.  We  are  but  at  the  22d 
of  the  month,  hardly  above  a  week  since  the  Bastille  fell, 
when  it  suddenly  appears  that  old  Foulon  is  alive;  nay,  that 
he  is  here,  in  early  morning,  in  the  streets  of  Paris :  the 
extortioner,  the  plotter,  who  would  make  the  people  eat  grass, 
and  was  a  liar  from  the  beginning! — It  is  even  so.  The  decep- 
tive "  sumptuous  funeral  "  (of  some  domestic  that  died)  ;  the 
hiding-place  at  Vitry  towards  Fontainebleau,  have  not  availed 
that  wretched  old  man.  Some  living  domestic  or  dependent, 
for  none  loves  Foulon,  has  betrayed  him  to  the  Village.  Merci- 
less boors  of  Vitry  unearth  him ;  pounce  on  him,  like  hell- 
hounds: Westward,  old  Infamy;  to  Paris,  to  be  judged  at 
the  H6tel-de-Ville !  His  old  head,  which  seventy-four  years 
have  bleached,  is  bare ;  they  have  tied  an  emblematic  bundle  of 
grass  on  his  back ;  a  garland  of  nettles  and  thistles  is  round  his 
neck :  in  this  manner ;  led  with  ropes ;  goaded  on  with  curses  and 
menaces,  must  he,  with  his  old  limbs,  sprawl  forward ;  the  piti- 
ablest,  most  unpitied  of  all  old  men. 

Sooty  Saint-Antoine,  and  every  street,  musters  its  crowds 
as  he  passes; — the  Hall  of  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  the  Place  de 
Greve  itself,  will  scarcely  hold  his  escort  and  him.  Foulon 
must  not  only  be  judged  righteously,  but  judged  there  where 
he  stands,  without  any  delay.  Appoint  seven  judges,  ye 
Vol.  I. — 12 


1 78  CARLYLE  [1789 

Municipals,  or  seventy-and-seven ;  name  them  yourselves,  or 
we  will  name  them:  but  judge  him!a  Electoral  rhetoric,  elo- 
quence of  Mayor  Bailly,  is  wasted,  for  hours,  explaining  the 
beauty  of  the  Law's  delay.  Delay,  and  still  delay !  Behold, 
O  Mayor  of  the  People,  the  morning  has  worn  itself  into 
noon:  and  he  is  still  unjudged! — Lafayette,  pressingly  sent 
for,  arrives ;  gives  voice :  This  Foulon,  a  known  man,  is 
guilty  almost  beyond  doubt ;  but  may  he  not  have  accomplices  ? 
Ought  not  the  truth  to  be  cunningly  pumped  out  of  him, — 
in  the  Abbaye  Prison  ?  It  is  a  new  light !  Sansculottism  claps 
hands; — at  which  handclapping,  Foulon  (in  his  fainness,  as 
his  Destiny  would  have  it)  also  claps.  "  See !  they  understand 
one  another !  "  cries  dark  Sansculottism,  blazing  into  fury 
of  suspicion. — "  Friends,"  said  "  a  person  in  good  clothes," 
stepping  forward,  "what  is  the  use  of  judging  this  man? 
Has  he  not  been  judged  these  thirty  years?"  With  wild  "^  x, 
yells,  Sansculottism  clutches  him,  in  its  hundred  hands:  he  J  ' 
is  whirled  across  the  Place  de  Greve,  to  the  "  Lanterne," 
Lamp-iron  which  there  is  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Van- 
nerie;  pleading  bitterly  for  life, — to  the  deaf  winds.  Only 
with  the  third  rope — for  two  ropes  broke,  and  the  quavering 
voice  still  pleaded — can  he  be  so  much  as  got  hanged !  His 
Body  is  dragged  through  the  streets;  his  Head  goes  aloft 
on  a  pike,  the  mouth  filled  with  grass :  amid  sounds  as  of 
Tophet,  from  a  grass-eating  people. & 

Surely  if  Revenge  is  a  "  kind  of  Justice,"  it  is  a  "  wild  " 
kind !  O  mad  Sansculottism,  hast  thou  risen,  in  thy  mad 
darkness,  in  thy  soot  and  rags ;  unexpectedly,  like  an  En- 
celadus,  living-buried,  from  under  his  Trinacria?  They  that 
would  make  grass  be  eaten  do  now  eat  grass,  in  this  manner? 
After  long  dumb-groaning  generations,  has  the  turn  sud- 
ly  become  thine? — To  such  abysmal  overturns,  and  frightful 
instantaneous  inversions  of  the  centre-of-gravity,  are  human 
Solecisms  all  liable,  if  they  but  knew  it;  the  more  liable,  the 
falser  (and  tophcavier)   they  are! — 

To  add  to  the  horror  of  Mayor  Bailly  and  his  Municipals, 
word  comes  that  Berthier  has  also  been  arrested ;  that  he  is 
on  his  way  thither  from  Compiegne.  Berthier,  Intendant  (say 
Tax-levier)   of  Paris;    sycophant  and  tyrant;    forestaller  of 

a  Hisloire  Parlemcntairc,  ii.  146-9. 
h  Deux  Amis  de  la  Liberie,  ii.  60-6. 


July22d]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  179 

Corn ;  contriver  of  Camps  against  the  people ; — accused  of 
many  things :  is  he  not  Foulon's  son-in-law ;  and,  in  that 
one  point,  guilty  of  all?  In  these  hours,  too,  when  Sanscu- 
lottism  has  its  blood  up!  The  shuddering  Municipals  send 
one  of  their  number  to  escort  him,  with  mounted  National 
Guards. 

At  the  fall  of  day,  the  wretched  Berthier,  still  \vearing  a 
face  of  courage,  arrives  at  the  Barrier ;  in  an  open  carriage ; 
with  the  Municipal  beside  him ;  five  hundred  horsemen  with 
drawn  sabres ;  unarmed  footmen  enough :  not  without  noise ! 
Placards  go  brandished  round  him ;  bearing  legibly  his  indict- 
ment, as  Sansculottism  with  unlegal  brevity,  "  in  huge  letters," 
draws  it  up.<^  Paris  is  come  forth  to  meet  him :  with  hand- 
clappings,  with  windows  flung  up  ;  with  dances,  triumph-songs, 
as  of  the  Furies.  Lastly,  the  Head  of  Foulon  ;  this  also  meets  • 
him  on  a  pike.  Well  might  his  "  look  become  glazed,"  and 
sense  fail  him,  at  such  sight ! — Nevertheless,  be  the  man's 
conscience  what  it  may,  his  nerves  are  of  iron.  At  the  Hotel- 
de-Ville  he  will  answer  nothing.  He  says  he  obeyed  superior 
orders;  they  have  his  papers;  they  may  judge  and  deter- 
mine: as  for  himself,  not  having  closed  an  eye  these  two 
nights,  he  demands,  before  all  things,  to  have  sleep.  Leaden 
sleep,  thou  miserable  Berthier!  Guards  rise  with  him,  in 
motion  towards  the  Abbaye.  At  the  very  door  of  the  Hotel- 
de-Ville,  they  are  clutched ;  flung  asunder,  as  by  a  vortex  of 
mad  arms ;  Berthier  whirls  towards  the  Lanterne.  He  snatches 
a  musket ;  fells  and  strikes,  defending  himself  like  a  mad 
,  lion :  he  is  borne  down,  trampled,  hanged,  mangled :  his 
Head  too,  and  even  his  Heart,  flics  over  the  City  on  a  pike. 

Horrible,  in  Lands  that  had  known  equal  justice!  Not  so 
unnatural  in  Lands  that  had  never  known  it.  "  Lc  sang  qui 
coide,  est-il  done  si  pur?"  asks  Barnave ;  intimating  that  the 
Gallows,  though  by  irregular  methods,  has  its  own, — Thou  thy- 
self, O  Reader,  when  thou  turnest  that  corner  of  the  Rue  de 
la  Vannerie,  and  discerncst  still  that  same  grim  Bracket  of 
old  Iron,  wilt  not  want  for  reflections.  "  Over  a  grocer's 
shop,"  or  otherwise ;  with  "  a  bust  of  Louis  XIV  in  the  niche 

c"  II  a  vote  lc  Rot  ct  la  France  (He  robbed  tbc  King  and  France)." 
"  He  devoured  tbe  substance  of  the  People."  "  He  was  tbc  slave  of  tbc 
rich,  and  tbe  tyrant  of  tbe  poor."  "  He  drank  tbe  blood  of  tbe  \vi<lo\v 
and  orplum."    "  He  betrayed  his  country."    See  Deux  Amis,  ii.  67-73. 


i8o  CARLYLE  [1789 

under  it,"  now  no  longer  in  the  niche, — it  still  sticks  there; 
still  holding  out  an  ineffectual  light,  of  fish-oil;  and  has  seen 
worlds  wrecked,  and  says  nothing. 

But  to  the  eye  of  enlightened  Patriotism,  what  a  thunder- 
cloud was  this ;  suddenly  shaping  itself  in  the  radiance  of 
the  halcyon  weather !  Cloud  of  Erebus  blackness  ;  betokening 
latent  electricity  without  limit.  Mayor  Bailly,  General  Lafay- 
ette throw  up  their  commissions,  in  an  indignant  manner ; — 
need  to  be  flattered  back  again.  The  cloud  disappears,  as 
thunder-clouds  do.  The  halcyon  weather  returns,  though  of 
a  grayer  complexion ;  of  a  character  more  and  more  evidently 
not  supernatural. 

Thus,  in  any  case,  with  what  rubs  soever,  shall  the  Bastille 
be  abolished  from  our  Earth ;  and  with  it,  Feudalism,  Despot- 
ism ;  and,  one  hopes,  Scoundrelism  generally,  and  all  hard 
usage  of  man  by  his  brother  man.  Alas,  the  Scoundrelism 
and  hard  usage  are  not  so  easy  of  abolition !  But  as  for  the 
Bastille,  it  sinks  day  after  day,  and  month  after  month ;  its 
ashlars  and  boulders  tumbling  down  continually,  by  express 
order  of  our  Municipals.  Crowds  of  the  curious  roam  through 
its  caverns ;  gaze  on  the  skeletons  found  walled-up,  on  the 
oubliettes,  iron-cages,  monstrous  stone-blocks  with  padlock 
chains.  One  day  we  discern  Mirabeau  there,  along  with  the 
Genevese  Dumont.^  Workers  and  onlookers  make  reverent 
way  for  him ;  fling  verses,  flowers  on  his  path,  Bastille-papers 
and  curiosities  into  his  carriage,  with  vivats. 

Able  Editors  compile  Books  from  the  Bastille  Archives; 
from  what  of  them  remain  unburnt.  The  Key  of  that  Robber- 
Den  shall  cross  the  Atlantic;  shall  lie  on  Washington's  hall- 
table.  The  great  Clock  ticks  now  in  a  private  patriotic 
Clockmaker's  apartment ;  no  longer  measuring  hours  of  mere 
heaviness.  Vanished  is  the  Bastille,  what  we  call  vanished :  the 
body,  or  sandstones,  of  it  hanging,  in  benign  metamorphosis, 
for  centuries  to  come,  over  the  Seine  waters,  as  Pont  Louis  , 
Seize;e  the  soul  of  it  living,  perhaps  still  longer,  in  the 
memories  of  men. 

So  far,  ye  august  Senators,  with  your  Tennis-Court  Oaths, 
your  inertia  and  impetus,  your  sagacity  and  pertinacity,  have 
ye  brought  us.    "  And  yet  think.  Messieurs,"  as  the  Petitioners 

d  Diunont,   Souvenirs  snr  Mirabeau,  p.   305. 
e  Dulaure,  Histoire  de  Paris,  viii.  434. 


July22d]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  i8i 

justly  urged,  "  you  who  were  our  saviours  did  yourselves  need 
saviours," — the  brave  Bastillers,  namely;  workmen  of  Paris; 
many  of  them  in  straitened  pecuniary  circumstances  I/'  Sub- 
scriptions are  opened ;  Lists  are  formed,  more  accurate  than 
Elie's ;  harangues  are  delivered.  A  Body  of  Bastille  Heroes, 
tolerably  complete,  did  get  together; — comparable  to  the  Ar- 
gonauts ;  hoping  to  endure  like  them.  But  in  little  more  than 
a  year  the  whirlpool  of  things  threw  them  asunder  again, 
and  they  sank.  So  many  highest  superlatives  achieved  by 
man  are  followed  by  new  higher ;  and  dwindle  into  compara- 
tives and  positives!  The  Siege  of  the  Bastille,  weighed  with 
which,  in  the  Historical  balance,  most  other  sieges,  including 
that  of  Troy  Town,  are  gossamer,  cost,  as  we  find  in  killed 
and  mortally  wounded,  on  the  part  of  the  Besiegers,  some 
Eighty-three  persons:  on  the  part  of  the  Besieged,  after  all 
that  straw-burning,  fire-pumping,  and  deluge  of  musketry, 
One  poor  solitary  Invalid,  shot  stone  dead  (roide-mort)  on  the 
battlements  \g  The  Bastille  Fortress,  like  the  City  of  Jericho, 
was  overturned  by  miraculous  sound. 

f  Moniteur,  Seance  du  Samedi  i8  Juillet  1789  (in  Histoire  Parlement- 
aire,  ii.  137). 

g  Dusaulx,  Prise  de  la  Bastille,  p.  447,  &c. 


BOOK  SIXTH. 

CONSOLIDATION. 

Chapter  I. — Make  the  Constitution. 

ERE  perhaps  is  the  place  to  fix,  a  little  more  precisely, 
what  these  two  words,  French  Revolution,  shall 
mean ;  for,  strictly  considered,  they  may  have  as 
many  meanings  as  there  are  speakers  of  them.  All  things 
are  in  revolution ;  in  change  from  moment  to  moment,  which 
becomes  sensible  from  epoch  to  epoch:  in  this  Time-World 
of  ours  there  is  properly  nothing  else  but  revolution  and  muta- 
tion, and  even  nothing  else  conceivable.  Revolution,  you  an- 
swer, means  speedier  change.  Whereupon  one  has  still  to 
ask :  How  speedy  ?  At  what  degree  of  speed ;  in  what  par- 
ticular points  of  this  variable  course,  which  varies  in  velocity, 
but  can  never  stop  till  Time  itself  stops,  docs  revolution  begin 
and  end ;  cease  to  be  ordinary  mutation,  and  again  become 
such?  It  is  a  thing  that  will  depend  on  definition  more  or 
less  arbitrary. 

For  ourselves,  we  answer  that  French  Revolution  means 
here  the  open  violent  Rebellion,  and  Victory,  of  disimprisoned 
Anarchy  against  corrupt  worn-out  Authority:  how  Anarchy 
breaks  prison ;  bursts-up  from  the  infinite  Deep,  and  rages 
uncontrollable,  immeasurable,  enveloping  a  world ;  in  phasis 
after  phasis  of  fever-frenzy ; — till  the  frenzy  burning  itself 
out,  and  what  elements  of  new  Order  it  held  (since  all  Force 
holds  such)  developing  themselves,  the  Uncontrollable  be  got, 
if  not  reimprisoned,  yet  harnessed,  and  its  mad  forces  made 
to  work  towards  their  object  as  sane  regulated  ®nes.  For 
as  Hierarchies  and  Dynasties  of  all  kinds.  Theocracies,  Aris- 
tocracies, Autocracies,  Strumpetocracies,  have  ruled  over  the 
world :  so  it  was  appointed,  in  the  decrees  of  Providence, 
that  this  same  Victorious  Anarchy,  Jacobinism,  Sansculottism, 
French  Revolution,  Horrors  of  French  Revolution,  or  what 

182 


CHOICE   EXAMPLES   OF   EARLY   PRINTING   AND 

ENGRAVING. 

Facsimiles  from  Rare  and  Curious  Books. 


DECORATIVE  PAGE  FROM  A  HEBREW  BIBLE. 

The  volume  from  which  this  fac-simile  page  has  been  reproduced  is  described  in 
the  Hebrew  catalogue  of  the  British  Museum  as  the  Neapolitan  Bible  of  1491.  The 
border  design  is  very  remarkable  as  a  decorative  composition,  equalling  in  elab- 
orate device  the  most  intricate  specimens  of  the  illuminated  borders  of  the  period. 


nfn  p'y.TPK  Tap.tJipVijnj^riQ^j?  two  :  ■)Di«7  nt?o 
t^Gphr^ri  OS  \  ^ii}_\  o^iTrn  fwSa  fm-*)n jSrt ji 

pn:i'r^^  ^^  .'S'se-nTKiaairnKPrSyntinaia 


July-Aug'ist]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  183 

else  mortals  name  it,  should  have  its  turn.  The  "  destructive 
wrath  "  of  Sansculottism :  this  is  what  we  speak,  having  un- 
happily no  voice  for  singing. 

Surely  a  great  Phenomenon:  nay  it  is  a  transcendental 
one,  overstepping  all  rules  and  experience ;  the  crowning 
Phenomenon  of  our  Modern  Time.  For  here  again,  most-' 
unexpectedly,  comes  antique  Fanaticism  in  new  and  newest 
vesture ;  miraculous,  as  all  Fanaticism  is.  Call  it  the  Fanat-.J 
icism  of  "  making  away  with  formulas,  dc  humer  les  for- 
miiles."  The  world  of  formulas,  the  formed  regulated  world, 
which  all  habitable  world  is, — must  needs  hate  such  Fanaticism 
like  death ;  and  be  at  deadly  variance  with  it.  The  world  of 
formulas  must  conquer  it ;  or  failing  that,  must  die  execrat- 
ing it,  anathematizing  it ; — can  nevertheless  in  nowise  pre- 
vent its  being  and  its  having  been.  The  Anathemas  are  there, 
and  the  miraculous  Thing  is  there. 

Whence  it  cometh  ?  Whither  it  goeth  ?  These  are  questions ! 
When  the  age  of  Miracles  lay  faded  into  the  distance  as  an 
incredible  tradition,  and  even  the  age  of  Conventionalities  was 
now  old;  and  Man's  E:\I:5ter.ce  h:;d  for  long  generations  rested 
on  mere  formulas  which  were  grown  hollow  by  course  of 
time;  and  it  seemed  as  if  no  Reality  any  longer  existed, 
but  only  Phantasms  of  realities,  and  God's  Universe  were 
the  work  of  the  Tailor  and  Upholsterer  mainly,  and  men  were 
buckram  masks  that  went  about  becking  and  grimacing  there, 
— on  a  sudden,  the  Earth  yawns  asunder,  and  amid  Tar- 
tarean smoke,  and  glare  of  fierce  brightness,  rises  Sanscu- 
lottism, many-headed,  fire-breathing,  and  asks:  What  think 
ye  of  me?  Well  may  the  buckram  masks  start  together,  ter- 
ror-struck ;  "  into  expressive  well-concerted  groups  !  "  It  is 
indeed,  Friends,  a  most  singular,  most  fatal  thing.  Let  who- 
soever is  but  buckram  and  a  phantasm  look  to  it:  ill  verily 
may  it  fare  with  him;  here  methinks  he  cannot  much  longer 
be.  Woe  also  to  many  a  one  who  is  not  wholly  buckram, 
but  partly  real  and  human!  The  age  of  Miracles  has  come 
back !  "  Behold  the  World-Phcenix,  in  fire-consummation  and 
fire-creation :  wide  are  her  fanning  wings ;  loud  is  her  death- 
melody,  of  battle-thunders  and  falling  towns ;  skyward  lashes 
the  funeral  flame,  enveloping  all  things:  it  is  the  Death-Birth 
of  a  World  !  " 

Whereby,  however,  as  we  often  say,  shall  one  unspeakable 


i84  CARLYLE  [1789 

blessing  seem  attainable.  This,  namely :  that  Man  and  his 
Life  rest  no  more  on  hoUowness  and  a  Lie,  but  on  solidity 
and  some  kind  of  Truth.  Welcome  the  beggarliest  truth,  so 
it  be  one,  in  exchange  for  the  royalest  sham !  Truth  of  any 
kind  breeds  ever  new  and  better  truth ;  thus  hard  granite 
rock  will  crumble  down  into  soil,  under  the  blessed  skyey 
influences ;  and  cover  itself  with  verdure,  with  fruitage  and 
umbrage.  But  as  for  Falsehood,  which,  in  like  contrary  man- 
ner, grows  ever  falser, — what  can  it,  or  what  should  it  do  but 
decease,  being  ripe ;  decompose  itself,  gently  or  even  violently, 
and  return  to  the  Father  of  it, — too  probably  in  flames  of 
fire? 

Sansculottism  will  burn  much ;  but  what  is  incombustible 
it  will  not  burn.  Fear  not  Sansculottism ;  recognize  it  for 
what  it  is,  the  portentous  inevitable  end  of  much,  the  miracu- 
lous beginning  of  much.  One  other  thing  thou  mayest  under- 
stand of  it:  that  it  too  came  from  God;  for  has  it  not  been? 
From  of  old,  as  it  is  written,  are  His  goings  forth ;  in  the 
great  Deep  of  things ;  fearful  and  wonderful  now  as  in  the 
beginning:  in  the  whirlwind  also  He  speaks;  and  the  wrath 
of  men  is  made  to  praise  Him. — But  to  gauge  and  measure 
this  immeasurable  Thing,  and  what  is  called  account  for  it, 
and  reduce  it  to  a  dead  logic-formula,  attempt  not !  Much 
less  shalt  thou  shriek  thyself  hoarse,  cursing  it ;  for  that,  to 
all  needful  lengths,  has  been  already  done.  As  an  actually 
existing  Son  of  Time,  look,  with  unspeakable  manifold  inter- 
est, oftenest  in  silence,  at  what  the  Time  did  bring:  there- 
with edify,  instruct,  nourish  thyself,  or  were  it  but  amuse  and 
gratify  thyself,  as  it  is  given  thee. 

Another  question  which  at  every  new  turn  will  rise  on  us, 
requiring  ever  new  reply,  is  this :  Where  the  French  Revolu- 
tion specially  is?  In  the  King's  Palace,  in  his  Majesty's  or 
her  Majesty's  managements,  and  maltreatments,  cabals,  im- 
becilities and  woes,  answer  some  few : — whom  we  do  not  an- 
swer. In  the  National  Assembly,  answer  a  large  mixed  multi- 
tude :  who  accordingly  seat  themselves  in  the  Reporter's  Chair ; 
and  therefrom  noting  what  Proclamations,  Acts,  Reports,  pas- 
sages of  logic-fence,  bursts  of  parliamentary  eloquence  seem 
notable  within  doors,  and  what  tumults  and  rumors  of  tumult 
become  audible  from  without,  produce  volume  on  volume ;  and, 
naming  it  History  of  the  French  Revolution,  contentedly  pub- 


-J! 
/ 


July-AugustJ  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  185 

lish  the  same.  To  do  the  like,  to  ahnost  any  extent,  with  so 
many  Filed  Newspapers,  Choix  des  Rapports,  Histoires  Parle- 
mentaircs  as  there  are,  amounting  to  many  horseloads,  were 
easy  for  us.  Easy  but  unprofitable.  The  National  Assembly, 
named  now  Constituent  Assembly,  goes  its  course ;  making  the 
Constitution ;  but  the  French  Revolution  also  goes  its  course. 

''  In  general,  may  we  not  say  that  the  French  Revolution  lies 
in  the  heart  and  head  of  every  violent-speaking,  of  every  violent- 
thinking  French  Man  ?  How  the  Twenty-five  Millions  of  such, 
in  their  perplexed  combination,  acting  and  counter-acting,  may 
give  birth  to  events ;  which  event  successively  is  the  cardinal 
one ;  and  from  what  point  of  vision  it  may  best  be  surveyed : 
this  is  a  problem.  Which  problem  the  best  insight,  seeking 
light  from  all  possible  sources,  shifting  its  point  of  vision 
whithersoever  vision  or  glimpse  of  vision  can  be  had,  may  em- 
ploy itself  in  solving;  and  be  well  content  to  solve  in  some 
tolerably  approximate  w^ay. 

As  to  the  National  Assembly,  in  so  far  as  it  still  towers 
eminent  over  France,  after  the  manner  of  a  car-borne  Carroccio, 
though  now  no  longer  in  the  van ;  and  rings  signals  for  retreat 
or  for  advance, — it  is  and  continues  a  reality  among  other  reali- 
ties. But  in  so  far  as  it  sits  making  the  Constitution,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  a  fatuity  and  chimera  mainly.  Alas,  in  the 
never  so  heroic  building  of  Montesquieu-Mably  card-castles, 
though  shouted  over  by  the  world,  what  interest  is  there?  Oc- 
cupied in  that  way,  an  august  National  Assembly  becomes  for 
us  little  other  than  a  Sanhedrim  of  Pedants,  not  of  the  gerund- 
grinding,  yet  of  no  fruitfullcr  sort ;  and  its  loud  debatings  and 
recriminations  about  Rights  of  Man,  Right  of  Peace  and  War, 
Veto  suspensif,  Veto  absolu,  what  are  they  but  so  many 
Pedant's-curses,  "  May  God  confound  you  for  your  Theory  of 
Irregular  Verbs!" 

'""  A  Constitution  can  be  built.  Constitutions  enough  h  la  Sieyes: 
but  the  frightful  difficulty  is,  that  of  getting  men  to  come  and 

_live  in  them!  Could  Sieyes  have  drawn  thunder  and  lightning 
out  of  Heaven  to  sanction  his  Constitution,  it  had  been  well : 
but  without  any  thunder?  Nay,  strictly  considered,  is  it  not 
still  true  that  without  some  such  celestial  sanction,  given  visibly 
in  thunder  or  invisibly  otherwise,  no  Constitution  can  in  the 
long  run  be  worth  much  more  than  the  waste-paper  it  is  written 
on?     The  Constitution,  the  set  of  Laws,  or  prescribed  Haliits 


rf 


1 86  CARLYLE  [1789 

of  Acting,  that  men  will  live  under,  is  the  one  which  images 
their  Convictions, — their  Faith  as  to  this  wondrous  Universe, 
and  what  rights,  duties,  capabilities  they  have  there:  which 
stands  sanctioned,  therefore,  by  Necessity  itself;  if  not  by  a 
seen  Deity,  then  by  an  unseen  one.  Other  Laws,  whereof  there 
are  always  enough  ready-rmde,  are  usurpations ;  which  men  do 
not  obey,  but  rebel  against,  and  abolish  at  their  earliest  con- 
venience. 

The  question  of  questions  accordingly  were,  Who  is  it  that, 
especially  for  rebellers  and  abolishers,  can  make  a  Constitution? 
He  that  can  image-forth  the  general  Belief  when  there  is  one ; 
that  can  impart  one  when,  as  here,  there  is  none.  A  most  rare 
man ;  ever,  as  of  old,  a  god-missioned  man !  Here,  however, 
in  defect  of  such  transcendent  supreme  man.  Time  with  its  in- 
finite succession  of  merely  superior  men,  each  yielding  his  little 
contribution,  does  much.  Force  likewise  (for,  as  Antiquarian 
Philosophers  teach,  the  royal  Sceptre  was  from  the  first  some- 
thing of  a  Hammer,  to  crack  such  heads  as  could  not  be  con- 
vinced) will  all  along  find  somewhat  to  do.  And  thus  in  per- 
petual abolition  and  reparation,  rending  and  mending,  with 
struggle  and  strife,  with  present  evil,  and  the  hope  and  effort 
towards  future  good,  must  the  Constitution,  as  all  human  things 
do,  build  itself  forward;  or  unbuild  itself,  and  sink,  as  it  can 
and  may.  O  Sieyes,  and  ye  other  Committee-men,  and  Twelve 
Hundred  miscellaneous  individuals  from  all  parts  of  France ! 
what  is  the  Belief  of  France  and  yours,  if  ye  knew  it?  Proper- 
ly that  there  shall  be  no  Belief;  that  all  formulas  be  sw^allowed. 
The  Constitution  which  will  suit  that?  Alas,  too  clearly,  a 
No-Constitution,  an  Anarchy ; — which  also,  in  due  season,  shall 
be  vouchsafed  you. 

But,  after  all,  what  can  an  unfortunate  National  Assembly 
do?  Consider  only  this,  that  there  are  Twelve  Hundred  mis- 
cellaneous individuals ;  not  a  unit  of  whom  but  has  his  own 
thinking-apparatus,  his  own  speaking-apparatus !  In  every 
unit  of  them  is  some  belief  and  wish,  different  for  each,  both  that 
France  should  be  regenerated,  and  also  that  he  individually 
should  do  it.  Twelve  Hundred  separate  Forces,  yoked  mis- 
cellaneously to  any  object,  miscellaneously  to  all  sides  of  it ;  and 
bidden  pull  for  life ! 

Or  is  it  the  nature  of  National  Assemblies  generally  to  do, 
with  endless  labor  and  clangor.  Nothing  ?     Are  Representative 


July- Aug.  4th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  1S7 

Governments  mostly  at  bottom  Tyrannies  too?  Shall  we  say, 
the  Tyrants,  the  ambitious  contentious  Persons,  from  all  cor- 
ners of  the  country  do,  in  this  manner,  get  gathered  into  one 
place;  and  there,  with  motion  and  counter-motion,  with  jargon 
and  hubbub,  cancel  one  another,  like  the  fabulous  Kilkenny 
Cats ;  and  produce,  for  net-result,  zero; — the  country  meanwhile 
governing  or  guiding  itself,  by  such  wisdom,  recognized,  or  for 
most  part  unrecognized,  as  may  exist  in  individual  heads  here 
and  there  ? — Nay,  even  that  were  a  great  improvement ;  for  of 
old,  with  their  Guelf  Factions  and  Ghibelline  Factions,  with 
their  Red  Roses  and  White  Roses,  they  were  wont  to  cancel  the 
whole  country  as  well.  Besides  they  do  it  now  in  a  much  nar- 
rower cockpit ;  within  the  four  walls  of  their  Assembly  House, 
and  here  and  there  an  outpost  of  Hustings  and  Barrel-heads ; 
do  it  with  tongues  too,  not  with  swords : — all  which  improve- 
ments, in  the  art  of  producing  zero,  are  they  not  great  ?  Nay, 
best  of  all,  some  happy  Continents  (as  the  Western  one,  with  its 
Savannahs,  where  wdiosocver  has  four  willing  limbs  finds  food 
under  his  feet,  and  an  infinite  sky  over  his  head)  can  do  without 
governing. — What  Sphinx-questions ;  which  the  distracted 
world,  in  these  very  generations,  must  answer  or  die ! 


Chapter  II. — The  Constituent  Assembly. 

One  thing  an  elected  Assembly  of  Twelve  Hundred  is  fit 
for :  Destroying.  Which  indeed  is  but  a  more  decided  exercise 
of  its  natural  talent  for  Doing  Nothing.  Do  nothing,  only  keep 
agitating,  debating;  and  things  will  destroy  themselves. 

So  and  not  otherwise  proved  it  with  an  august  National  As- 
sembly. It  took  the  name  Constituent,  as  if  its  mission  and 
function  had  been  to  construct  or  build ;  which  also,  with  its 
whole  soul,  it  endeavored  to  do:  yet,  in  the  fates,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  there  lay  for  it  precisely  of  all  functions  the  most  op- 
posite to  that.  Singular,  what  Gospels  men  will  ])elieve ;  even 
Gospels  according  to  Jean  Jacques !  It  was  the  fixed  Faith  of 
these  National  Deputies,  as  of  all  thinking  Frenchmen,  that  the 
Constitution  could  be  made;  that  they,  there  and  then,  were 
called  to  make  it.  How,  w'ith  the  toughness  of  old  Hebrews  or 
Tshmaclitc  Moslem,  did  the  otherwise  light  unbelieving  People 
persist  in  this  their  Credo  quia  iuipossihile;  and  front  the  armed 
world  with  it,  and  grow  fanatic  and  even  heroic,  and  do  exploits 


i88  CARLYLE  [1789 

by  it !  The  Constituent  Assembly's  Constitution,  and  several 
others,  will,  being  printed  and  not  manuscript,  survive  to  future 
generations,  as  an  instructive  well-nigh  incredible  document  of 
the  Time :  the  most  significant  Picture  of  the  then  existing 
France ;  or  at  lowest.  Picture  of  these  men's  Picture  of  it. 

But  in  truth  and  seriousness,  what  could  the  National  As- 
sembly have  done  ?  The  thing  to  be  done  was,  actually  as  they 
said,  to  regenerate  France ;  to  abolish  the  old  France,  and  make 
a  new  one,  quietly  or  forcibly,  by  concession  or  by  violence : 
this  by  the  Law  of  Nature  has  become  inevitable.  With  what 
degree  of  violence,  depends  on  the  wisdom  of  those  that  preside 
over  it.  With  perfect  wisdom  on  the  part  of  the  National  As- 
sembly, it  had  all  been  otherwise ;  but  whether,  in  any  wise,  it 
could  have  been  pacific,  nay  other  than  bloody  and  convulsive, 
may  still  be  a  question. 

Grant,  meanwhile,  that  this  Constituent  Assembly  does  to 
the  last  continue  to  be  something.  With  a  sigh,  it  sees  itself 
incessantly  forced  away  from  its  infinite  divine  task  of  perfect- 
ing "  the  Theory  of  Irregular  Verbs," — to  finite  terrestrial  tasks, 
which  latter  have  still  a  significance  for  us.  It  is  the  cynosure 
of  revolutionary  France,  this  National  Assembly.  All  work  of 
Government  has  fallen  into  its  hands,  or  under  its  control ;  all 
men  look  to  it  for  guidance.  In  the  middle  of  that  huge  Revolt 
of  Twenty-five  millions,  it  hovers  always  aloft  as  Carroccio  or 
Battle-Standard,  impelling  and  impelled,  in  the  most  confused 
way :  if  it  cannot  give  much  guidance,  it  will  still  seem  to  give 
some.  It  emits  pacificatory  Proclamations  not  a  few ;  with 
more  or  with  less  result.  It  authorizes  the  enrollment  of  Na- 
tional Guards, — lest  Brigands  come  to  devour  us,  and  reap  the 
unripe  crops.  It  sends  missions  to  quell  "  effervescences ;  "  to 
deliver  men  from  the  Lanterne.  It  can  listen  to  congratulatory 
Addresses,  which  arrive  daily  by  the  sackful ;  mostly  in  King 
Cambyses'  vein :  also  to  Petitions  and  complaints  from  all 
mortals ;  so  that  every  mortal's  complaint,  if  it  cannot  get  re- 
dressed, may  at  least  hear  itself  complain.  For  the  rest,  an 
august  National  Assembly  can  produce  Parliamentary  Elo- 
quence ;  and  appoint  Committees.  Committees  of  the  Consti- 
tution, of  Reports,  of  Researches ;  and  of  much  else :  which 
again  yield  mountains  of  Printed  Paper ;  the  theme  of  new  Par- 
liamentary Eloquence,  in  bursts  or  in  plenteous  smooth-flowing 
floods.     And  so,  from  the  waste  vortex  whereon  all  things  go 


July-Aug.  4th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  189 

whirling  and  grinding,  Organic  Laws,  or  the  similitude  of  such, 
slowly  emerge. 

With  endless  debating,  we  get  the  Rights  of  Man  written 
down  and  promulgated:  true  paper  basis  of  all  paper  Consti- 
tutions. Neglecting,  cry  the  opponents,  to  declare  the  Duties 
of  Man !  Forgetting,  answer  we,  to  ascertain  the  Mights  of 
Man ; — one  of  the  fatalest  omissions ! — Nay  sometimes,  as  on 
V  the  Fourth  of  August,  our  National  Assembly,  fired  suddenly 
by  an  almost  preternatural  enthusiasm,  will  get  through  whole 
masses  of  work  in  one  night.  A  memorable  night,  this  Fourth 
of  August :  Dignitaries  temporal  and  spiritual ;  Peers,  Arch- 
bishops, Parlement-Presidents,  each  outdoing  the  other  in  pa- 
triotic devotedness,  come  successively  to  throw  their  now 
untenable  possessions  on  the  "  altar  of  the  fatherland."  With 
louder  and  louder  vivats, — for  indeed  it  is  "  after  dinner  "  too, 
— they  abolish  Tithes,  Seignorial  Dues,  Gabelle,  excessive 
Preservation  of  Game;  nay  Privilege,  Immunity,  Feudalism 
root  and  branch  ;  then  appoint  a  Te  Deum  for  it ;  and  so,  finally, 
disperse  about  three  in  the  morning,  striking  the  stars  with 
their  sublime  heads.  Such  night,  unforeseen  but  forever  me- 
morable, was  this  of  the  Fourth  of  August  1789.  Miraculous, 
or  semi-miraculous,  some  seem  to  think  it.  A  new  Night  of 
Pentecost,  shall  we  say,  shaped  according  to  the  new  Time, 
and  new  Church  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  ?  It  had  its  causes ; 
also  its  effects. 

In  such  manner  labor  the  National  Deputies ;  perfecting  their 
Theory  of  Irregular  Verbs;  governing  France,  and  being 
governed  by  it;  with  toil  and  noise; — cutting  asunder  ancient 
intolerable  bonds;  and,  for  new  ones,  assiduously  spinning 
ropes  of  sand.  Were  their  labors  a  nothing  or  a  something,  yet 
the  eyes  of  all  France  being  reverently  fixed  on  them.  History 
can  never  very  long  leave  them  altogether  out  of  sight. 

For  the  present,  if  we  glance  into  that  Assembly-FIall  of 
(  theirs,  it  will  be  found,  as  is  natural,  "  most  irregular."  As 
^  many  as  "  a  hundred  members  are  on  their  feet  at  once ;"  no 
rule  in  making  motions,  or  only  commencements  of  a  rule; 
Spectators'  Gallery  allowed  to  applaud,  and  even  to  hiss  ;o 
President,  appointed  once  a  fortnight,  raising  many  times  no 
serene  head  above  the  waves.  Nevertheless,  as  in  all  human 
Assemblages,  like  does  begin  arranging  itself  to  like  ;  the  ])cren- 

o  Arthur  Young,  i.  iii. 


190  CARLYLE  [1789 

nial  rule,  Ubi  homines  sunt  modi  sunt,  proves  valid.  Rudi- 
ments of  Methods  disclose  themselves ;  rudiments  of  Parties. 
There  is  a  Right  Side  (Cdtc  Droit),  a  Left  Side  {Cote  Gauche)  ;-> 
sitting  on  M.  le  President's  right  hand,  or  on  his  left:  the  Cote 
Droit  conservative;  the  Cote  Gauche  destructive.  Intermediate 
is  Anglomaniac  Constitutionalism,  or  Two-Chamber  Royalism;- 
with  its  Mouniers,  its  Lallys, — fast  verging  towards  nonentity. 
Pre-eminent,  on  the  Right  Side,  pleads  and  perorates  Cazale  the 
Dragoon-captain,  eloquent,  mildly  fervent;  earning  for  himself 
the  shadow  of  a  name.  There  also  blusters  Barrel-Mirabeau, 
the  Younger  Mirabeau,  not  without  wit :  dusky  D'Espremenil 
does  nothing  but  sniff  and  ejaculate  ;  might,  it  is  fondly  thought, 
lay  prostrate  the  Elder  Mirabeau  himself,  would  he  but  try,^ — 
which  he  does  not.  Last  and  greatest,  see,  for  one  moment, 
the  Abbe  Maury ;  with  his  Jesuitic  eyes,  his  impassive  brass 
face,  "  image  of  all  the  cardinal  sins."  Indomitable,  unquench- 
able, he  fights  jesuitico-rhetorically ;  with  toughest  lungs  and 
heart ;  for  Throne,  especially  for  Altar  and  Tithes.  So  that  a 
shrill  voice  exclaims  once,  from  the  Gallery :  "  Messieurs  of  the 
Clergy,  you  have  to  be  shaved ;  if  you  wriggle  too  much,  you 
will  get  cut."c 

The  Left  Side  is  also  called  the  D'Orleans  side ;  and  some- ' 
times,  derisively,  the  Palais  Royal.     And  yet,  so  confused,  real-  -, 
imaginary  seems  everything,  "  it  is  doubtful,"  as  Mirabeau  said, 
"  whether  D'Orleans  himself  belong  to  that  same  D'Orleans 
party."     What  can  be  known  and  seen  is,  that  his  moon-visage 
does  beam  from  that  point  of  space.     There  likewise  sits  sea- 
green  Robespierre ;  throwing  in  his  light  weight,  with  decision, 
not  yet  with  effect.     A  thin  lean  Puritan  and  Precisian,  he 
would  make  away  with  formulas ;  yet  lives,  moves  and  has  his 
being  wholly  in  formulas,  of  another  sort.     "  Peuplc,"  such, 
according  to  Robespierre,  ought  to  be  the  Royal  method  of 
promulgating  Laws,  "  Peuple,  this  is  the  Law  I  have  framed 
for  thee;  dost  thou  accept  it?" — answered,  from  Right  side, 
from  Centre  and  Left,  by  inextinguishable  laughter.^     Yet  men  n 
of  insight  discern  that  the  Seagreen  may  by  chance  go  far:  ' 
''  This  man,"  observes  Mirabeau,  "  will  do  somewhat ;  he  be-j 
lieves  every  word  he  says." 

h  Biographic  UnivcrscUe,  §  D'Espremenil  Cby  Beaulieu). 
c  Dictinnnairc  dcs  Honimes  Marqnans,  ii.  519. 
d  Monitcur,  No.  67  (in  Hist.  Pari.). 


July- August]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  191 

Abbe  Sieyes  is  busy  with  mere  Constitutional  work ;  where- 
in, unluckily,  fellow-workmen  are  less  pliable  than,  with  one 
who  has  completed  the  Science  of  Polity,  they  ought  to  be. 
Courage,  Sieyes,  nevertheless !  Some  twenty  months  of  heroic 
travail,  of  contradiction  from  the  stupid,  and  the  Constitution 
shall  be  built ;  the  top-stone  of  it  brought  out  with  shouting, — 
say  rather,  the  top-paper,  for  it  is  all  Paper ;  and  thou  hast  done 
in  it  what  the  Earth  or  the  Heaven  could  require,  thy  utmost. 
Note  likewise  this  Trio ;  memorable  for  several  things ;  memo- 
rable were  it  only  that  their  history  is  written  in  an  epigram: 
"  Whatsoever  these  Three  have  in  hand,"  it  is  said,  "Duport 
thinks  it,  Barnave  speaks  it,  Lameth  does  it.'V 

But  royal  Mirabeau  ?  Conspicuous  among  all  parties,  raised 
above  and  beyond  them  all,  this  man  rises  more  and  more.  As 
we  often  say,  he  has  an  eye,  he  is  a  reality;  while  others  are 
formulas  and  eye-glasses.  In  the  Transient  he  will  detect  the 
Perennial ;  find  some  firm  footing  even  among  Paper-vortexes. 
His  fame  is  gone  forth  to  all  lands ;  it  gladdened  the  heart  of 
the  crabbed  old  Friend  of  Men  himself  before  he  died.  The 
very  Postillions  of  inns  have  heard  of  Mirabeau :  when  an  im- 
patient Traveller  complains  that  the  team  is  insufficient,  his 
Postillion  answers,  "  Yes,  Monsieur,  the  wheelers  are  weak ; 
but  my  mirabeau  (main  horse),  you  see,  is  a  right  one,  mais 
mon  mirabeau  est  excellent."f 

And  now.  Reader,  thou  shalt  quit  this  noisy  Discrepancy 
of  a  National  Assembly;  not   (if  thou  be  of  humane  mind) 
without  pity.     Twelve  hundred  brother  men  are  there,  in  the 
centre  of  Twenty-five  Millions;  fighting  so  fiercely  with  Fate 
and  with  one  another ;  struggling  their  lives  out,  as  most  sons  of 
Adam  do,  for  that  which  profiteth  not.     Nay,  on  the  whole, -^ 
it  is  admitted  further  to  be  very  dull.     "  Dull  as  this  day's  As-  ' 
sembly,"  said  some  one.     "Why  date,  Ponrquoi  datcr?"  an-; 
swered  Mirabeau.  ^ 

Consider  that  they  are  Twelve  Hundred ;  that  they  not  only 
speak,  but  read  their  speeches ;  and  even  borrow  and  steal 
speeches  to  read !  With  Twelve  Hundred  fluent  speakers,  and 
their  Noah's  Deluge  of  vociferous  commonplace,  silence  unat- 
tainable may  well  seem  the  one  blessing  of  Life.  But  figure 
Twelve  Hundred  pamphleteers ;  droning  forth  perpetual  pam- 

e  See  Toulongeon,  i.  c.  3. 

f  Dumont,  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p.  255. 


192  CARLYLE  [1789 

phlets :  and  no  man  to  gag  them  !  Neither,  as  in  the  American 
Congress,  do  the  arrangements  seem  perfect.  A  Senator  has 
not  his  own  Desk  and  Newspaper  here;  of  Tobacco  (much  less 
of  Pipes)  there  is  not  the  shghtest  provision.  Conversation 
itself  has  to  be  transacted  in  a  low  tone,  with  continual  inter- 
ruption :  only  "  Pencil-notes  "  circulate  freely,  "  in  incredible 
numbers,  to  the  foot  of  the  very  tribune. "g'  Such  work  is  it, 
regenerating  a  Nation;  perfecting  one's  Theory  of  Irregular 
Verbs ! 


Chapter  III. — The  General  Overturn. 

Of  the  King's  Court,  for  the  present,  there  is  almost  nothing 
whatever  to  be  said.  Silent,  deserted  are  these  halls ;  Royalty 
languishes  forsaken  of  its  war-god  and  all  its  hopes,  till  once 
^the  CEil-de-Boeuf  rally  again.  The  sceptre  is  departed  from 
King  Louis ;  is  gone  over  to  the  Sallc  des  Menus,  to  the  Paris 
Townhall,  or  one  knows  not  whither.  In  the  July  days,  while- 
all  ears  were  yet  deafened  by  the  crash  of  the  Bastille,  and 
Ministers  and  Princes  were  scattered  to  the  four  winds,  it 
seemed  as  if  the  very  Valets  had  grown  heavy  of  hearing.  Be- 
senval,  also  in  flight  towards  Infinite  Space,  but  hovering  a 
little  at  Versailles,  was  addressing  his  Majesty  personally  for  an 
Order  about  post-horses  ;  when,  lo,  "  the  Valet-in-waiting  places 
himself  familiarly  between  his  Majesty  and  me,"  stretching  out 
his  rascal  neck  to  learn  what  it  was !  His  Majesty,  in  sudden 
choler,  whirled  round ;  made  a  clutch  at  the  tongs :  "  I  gently 
prevented  him ;  he  grasped  my  hand  in  thankfulness ;  and  I 
noticed  tears  in  his  eyes."/» 

Poor  King ;  for  French  Kings  also  are  men !  Louis  Four- 
teenth himself  once  clutched  the  tongs,  and  even  smote  with 
them ;  but  then  it  was  at  Louvois,  and  Dame  Maintenon  ran 
up. — The  Queen  sits  weeping  in  her  inner  apartments,  sur- 
rounded by  weak  women :  she  is  "  at  the  height  of  unpopu- 
larity ;"  universally  regarded  as  the  evil  genius  of  France.  Her 
friends  and  familiar  counsellors  have  all  fled ;  and  fled,  surely, 
on  the  foolishest  errand.  The  Chateau  Polignac  still  frowns 
aloft,  on  its  "bold  and  enormous  cubical  rock,"  amid  the  bloom- 
ing   champaigns,    amid    the    blue    girdling    mountains    of 

g  See  Dumont  (pp.  159-67)  ;  Arthur  Young,  &c. 
h  Besenval,  iii.  419. 


July- August]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  193 

Auvergne :'"  but  no  Duke  and  Duchess  Polignac  look  forth  from 
it;  they  have  fled,  they  have  "  met  Necker  at  Bale ;  "  they  shall 
not  return.  That  France  should  see  her  Nobles  resist  the 
Irresistible,  Inevitable,  with  the  face  of  angry  men,  was  un- 
happy, not  unexpected ;  but  with  the  face  and  sense  of  pettish 
children?  This  was  her  peculiarity.  They  understood  noth- 
ing ;  would  understand  nothing.  Does  not,  at  this  hour,  a  new 
Polignac,  first-born  of  these  Two,  sit  reflective  in  the  Castle  of 

i  Ham  ;;'  in  an  astonishment  he  will  never  recover  from ;  the  most 

,  confused  of  existing  mortals  ? 

King  Louis  has  his  new  Ministry :  mere  Popularities ;  Old- 
President  Pompignan ;  Necker,  coming  back  in  triumph ;  and 
other  such.^'  But  what  will  it  avail  him?  As  was  said,  the 
sceptre,  all  but  the  wooden  gilt  sceptre,  has  departed  elsewhither. 
Volition,  determination  is  not  in  this  man:  only  innocence,  in- 

I  dolence ;  dependence  on  all  persons  but  himself,  on  all  circum- 

;  stances  but  the  circumstances  he  were  lord  of.  So  troublous 
internally  is  our  Versailles  and  its  work.  Beautiful,  if  seen 
from  afar,  resplendent  like  a  Sun ;  seen  near  at  hand,  a  mere 
Sun's- Atmosphere,  hiding  darkness,  confused  ferment  of  ruin ! 
But  over  France,  there  goes  on  the  indisputablest  "  destruc- 
tion of  formulas  ;"  transaction  of  realities  that  follow  therefrom. 
So  many  millions  of  persons,  all  gyved,  and  high  strangled,  with 
formulas ;  whose  Life  nevertheless,  at  least  the  digestion  and 
hunger  of  it,  was  real  enough !  Heaven  has  at  length  sent  an 
abundant  harvest ;  but  what  profits  it  the  poor  man,  when  Earth 
with  her  formulas  interposes?  Industry,  in  these  times  of  in- 
surrection, must  needs  lie  dormant;  capital,  as  usual,  not  circu- 
lating, but  stagnating  timorously  in  nooks.  The  poor  man  is 
short  of  work,  is  therefore  short  of  money ;  nay  even  had  he 
money,  bread  is  not  to  be  bought  for  it.  Were  it  plotting  of 
Aristocrats,  plotting  of  D'Orleans ;  were  it  Brigands,  preter- 
natural terror,  and  the  clang  of  Phoebus  Apollo's  silver  bow, — 
enough,  the  markets  are  scarce  of  grain,  plentiful  only  in  tunmlt. 
Farmers  seem  lazy  to  thresh  ; — being  either  "  bribed ;"  or  need- 
ing no  bribe,  with  prices  ever  rising,  with  perhaps  rent  itself  no 
longer  so  pressing.  Neither,  what  is  singular,  do  municipal 
enactments,  "  That  along  with  so  many  measures  of  wheat 
you  shall  sell  so  many  of  rye,"  and  other  the  like,  much  mend  the 
matter.     Dragoons  with  drawn  swords  stand  ranked  among 

1  Arthur  Young,  i.   165.  ;"  A.u.  1835.  k  Montgaillard,  ii.   108. 

Vol.  I.  — 13 


X94  CARLYLE  [1789 

the  corn-sacks,  often  more  dragoons  than  sacks.^    Meal-mobs 
abound ;  growing  into  mobs  of  a  still  darker  quality. 

Starvation  has  been  known  among  the  French  Common- 
alty before  this ;  known  and  familiar.  Did  not  we  see  them,  in 
the  year  1775,  presenting,  in  sallow  faces,  in  wretchedness  and 
raggedness,  their  Petition  of  Grievances ;  and,  for  answer,  get- 
ting a  brand-new  Gallows  forty  feet  high  ?  Hunger  and  Dark-  , 
ness,  through  long  years !  For  look  back  on  that  earlier  Paris 
Riot,  when  a  Great  Personage,  worn  out  by  debauchery,  was 
believed  to  be  in  want  of  Blood-baths ;  and  Mothers,  in  worn 
raiment,  yet  with  living  hearts  under  it,  "  filled  the  public 
places  "  with  their  wild  Rachel-cries, — stilled  also  by  the  Gal- 
lows. Twenty  years  ago,  the  Friend  of  Men  (preaching  to  the 
deaf)  described  the  Limousin  Peasants  as  wearing  a  "  pain- 
stricken  (souffre-dottlcur)  look,"  a  look  past  complaint ;  ''  as 
if  the  oppression  of  the  great  were  like  the  hail  and  the  thunder, 
a  thing  irremediable,  the  ordinance  of  Nature.^  And  now  if, 
in  some  great  hour,  the  shock  of  a  falling  Bastille  should 
awaken  you ;  and  it  were  found  to  be  the  ordinance  of  Art 
merely  ;  and  remediable,  reversible  ! 

Or  has  the  Reader  forgotten  that  "  flood  of  savages,"  which, 
in  sight  of  the  same  Friend  of  Men,  descended  from  the  moun- 
tains at  Mont  d'Or?  Lank-haired  haggard  faces;  shapes  raw- 
boned,  in  high  sabots,  in  woollen  jupes,  with  leather  girdles 
studded  with  copper  nails !  They  rocked  from  foot  to  foot, 
and  beat  time  with  their  elbows  too,  as  the  quarrel  and  battle, 
which  was  not  long  in  beginning,  went  on  ;  shouting  fiercely ;  the 
lank  faces  distorted  into  similitude  of  a  cruel  laugh.  For  they 
were  darkened  and  hardened:  long  had  they  been  the  prey  of 
excise-men  and  tax-men ;  of  "  clerks  with  the  cold  spurt  of  their 
pen."  It  was  the  fixed  prophecy  of  our  old  Marquis,  which  no 
man  would  listen  to,  that  "  such  Government  by  Blind-man's- '( 
bufif,  stumbling  along  too  far,  would  end  by  the  General  Over- 
turn, the  Cidbnte  Gcncrale! " 

No  man  would  listen  ;  each  went  his  thoughtless  way ; — and 
Time  and  Destiny  also  travelled  on.  The  Government  by 
Blind-man's-buff,  stumbling  along,  has  reached  the  precipice 
inevitable  for  it.  Dull  Drudgery,  driven  on,  by  clerks  with  the 
cold  dastard  spurt  of  their  pen,  has  been  driven — into  a  Com- 

/  Arthur  Young,  i.  129.  &c. 

w  Fils  Adoptif,  Manoircs  de  Mirabcau,  i.  364-394. 


July-August]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  195 

munion  of  Drudges !  For  now,  moreover,  there  have  come  the 
strangest  confused  tidings ;  by  Paris  Journals  with  their  paper 
wings ;  or  still  more  portentous,  where  no  Journals  are,"  by 
rumor  and  conjecture :  Oppression  not  inevitable ;  a  Bastille 
prostrate,  and  the  Constitution  fast  getting  ready !  Which  Con- 
stitution, if  it  be  something  and  not  nothing,  what  can  it  be  but 
bread  to  eat? 

The  Traveller,  "  walking  uphill,  bridle  in  hand,"  overtakes 
"  a  poor  woman ; "  the  image,  as  such  commonly  are,  of 
drudgery  and  scarcity ;  "  looking  sixty  years  of  age,  though  she 
is  not  yet  twenty-eight."  They  have  seven  children,  her  poor 
drudge  and  she :  a  farm,  with  one  cow,  which  helps  to  make  the 
children  soup ;  also  one  little  horse,  or  garron.  They  have 
rents  and  quit-rents.  Hens  to  pay  to  this  Seigneur,  Oat-sacks  to 
that ;  King's  taxes.  Statute-labor,  Church-taxes,  taxes  enough ; 
— and  think  the  times  inexpressible.  She  has  heard  that  some- 
where,  in  some  manner,  some  thing  is  to  be  done  for  the  poor : 
"  God  send  it  soon ;  for  the  dues  and  taxes  crush  us  down  {nous 
ecrasent)  !  "0 

Fair  prophecies  are  spoken,  but  they  are  not  fulfilled.  There 
have  been  Notables,  Assemblages,  turnings-out  and  comings-in. 
Intriguing  and  manoeuvring ;  Parlementary  eloquence  and 
arguing,  Greek  meeting  Greek  in  high  places,  has  long  gone  on ; 
yet  still  bread  comes  not.  The  harvest  is  reaped  and  garnered ; 
yet  still  we  have  no  bread.  Urged  by  despair  and  by  hope, 
I  what  can  Drudgery  do,  but  rise,  as  predicted,  and  produce  the 
', General  Overturn? 

Fancy,  then,  some  Five  full-grown  Millions  of  such  gaunt 
figures,  with  their  haggard  faces  {figures  Mves)  ;  in  woollen 
jupes,  with  copper-studded  leather  girths,  and  high  sabots,  start- 
ing up  to  ask,  as  in  forest-roarings,  their  washed  Upper-Classes, 
after  long  unreviewed  centuries,  virtually  this  question:  How 
have  ye  treated  us ;  how  have  ye  taught  us,  fed  us  and  led  us, 
while  we  toiled  for  you?  The  answer  can  be  read  in  flames, 
over  the  nightly  summer-sky.  This  is  the  feeding  and  leading 
we  have  had  of  you:  Emptiness, — of  pocket,  of  stomach,  of 
head  and  of  heart.  Behold  there  is  nothing  in  us;  nothing  but 
what  nature  gives  her  wild  children  of  the  desert :  Ferocity  and 
Appetite ;  Strength  grounded  on  Hunger.     Did  ye  mark  among 

n  See  Arthur  Young,  i.   137,   150,  &c. 
0  Ibid.,  i.  134. 


196  CARLYLE  [1789 

your  Rights  of  Man,  that  man  was  not  to  die  of  starvation, 
while  there  was  bread  reaped  by  him?  It  is  among  the  Mights 
of  Man. 

Seventy-two  Chateaus  have  flamed  aloft  in  the  Maconnais  ^ 
and  Beaujolais  alone :  this  seems  the  centre  of  the  conflagra-  ' 
tion ;  but  it  has  spread  over  Dauphine,  Alsace,  the  Lyonnais ; 
the  whole  South-East  is  in  a  blaze.  All  over  the  North,  from 
Rouen  to  Metz,  disorder  is  abroad :  smugglers  of  salt  go  openly 
in  armed  bands  :  the  barriers  of  towns  are  burnt ;  toll-gatherers, 
tax-gatherers,  official  persons  put  to  flight.  "  It  was  thought," 
says  Young,  "  the  people,  from  hunger,  would  revolt ;  "  and  we 
see  they  have  done  it.  Desperate  Lackalls,  long  prowling  aim- 
less, now  finding  hope  in  desperation  itself,  everywhere  form  a 
nucleus.  They  ring  the  Church-bell  by  way  of  tocsin :  and  the 
Parish  turns  out  to  the  work./'  Ferocity,  atrocity ;  hunger  and 
revenge :  such  work  as  we  can  imagine ! 

Ill  stands  it  now  with  the  Seigneur,  who,  for  example,  "  has 
walled-up  the  only  Fountain  of  the  Township ;"  who  has  ridden 
high  on  his  chartier  and  parchments ;  who  has  preserved  Game 
not  wisely  but  too  well.  Churches  also,  and  Canonries,  are 
sacked,  without  mercy ;  which  have  shorn  the  flock  too  close, 
forgetting  to  feed  it.  Woe  to  the  land  over  which  Sansculot- 
tism,  in  its  day  of  vengeance,  tramps  roughshod, — shod  in 
sabots !  Highbred  Seigneurs,  with  their  delicate  women  and . 
little  ones,  had  to  "  fly  half-naked,"  under  cloud  of  night :  glad 
to  escape  the  flames,  and  even  worse.  You  meet  them  at  the 
tables-d'hote  of  inns ;  making  wise  reflections  or  foolish,  that 
"  rank  is  destroyed ;  "  uncertain  whither  they  shall  now  wend.g 
The  metayer  will  find  it  convenient  to  be  slack  in  paying  rent. 
As  for  the  tax-gatherer,  he,  long  hunting  as  a  biped  of  prey,  may 
now  find  himself  hunted  as  one ;  his  Majesty's  Exchequer  will 
not  "  fill  up  the  Deficit  "  this  season :  it  is  the  notion  of  many, 
that  a  Patriot  Majesty,  being  the  Restorer  of  French  Liberty, 
has  abolished  most  taxes,  though,  for  their  private  ends,  some 
men  make  a  secret  of  it. 

Where  this  will  end  ?  In  the  Abyss,  one  may  prophesy ; 
whither  all  Delusions  are,  at  all  moments,  traveling;  where  this 
Delusion  has  now  arrived.  For  if  there  be  a  Faith,  from  of  old, 
it  is  this,  as  we  often  repeat,  that  no  Lie  can  live  forever.  The 
very  Truth  has  to  change  its  vesture,  from  time  to  time ;  and  be 
p  Sec  Hist.  Pari.  ii.  243-6.  q  See  Young,  i.  149,  &c. 


July-August]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  197 

born  again.  But  all  Lies  have  sentence  of  death  written  down 
against  them,  in  Heaven's  Chancery  itself ;  and,  slowly  or  fast, 
advance  incessantly  towards  their  hour.  "  The  sign  of  a  Grand 
Seigneur  being  landlord,"  says  the  vehement  plain-spoken 
Arthur  Young,  "are  wastes,  landcs,  deserts,  ling:  go  to  his 
residence,  you  will  find  it  in  the  middle  of  a  forest,  peopled  with 
deer,  wild  boars  and  wolves.  The  fields  are  scenes  of  pitiable 
management,  as  the  houses  are  of  misery.  To  see  so  many  mil- 
lions of  hands,  that  would  be  industrious,  all  idle  and  starving: 
O,  if  I  were  legislator  of  France  for  one  day,  I  would  make 
these  great  lords  skip  again !  'V  O  Arthur,  thou  now  actually 
beholdest  them  skip; — wilt  thou  grow  to  grumble  at  that  too? 

For  long  years  and  generations  it  lasted ;  but  the  time  came. 
Featherbrain,  whom  no  reasoning  and  no  pleading  could  touch, 
the  glare  of  the  firebrand  had  to  illuminate :  there  remained  but 
that  method.  Consider  it,  look  at  it !  The  widow  is  gathering 
nettles  for  her  children's  dinner;  a  perfumed  Seigneur,  deli- 
cately lounging  in  the  CEil-de-Bceuf,  has  an  alchemy  whereby  he 
will  extract  from  her  the  third  nettle,  and  name  it  Rent  and  Law : 
such  an  arrangement  must  end.  Ought  it  not?  But,  O  most 
fearful  is  such  an  ending !  Let  those,  to  whom  God,  in  his  great 
mercy,  has  granted  time  and  space,  prepare  another  and  milder 
one. 

To  some  it  is  a  matter  of  wonder  that  the  Seigneurs  did  not 
do  something  to  help  themselves ;  say,  combine  and  arm :  for 
there  were  a  "  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  of  them,"  all  valiant 
enough.  Unhappily,  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  scattered 
over  wide  Provinces,  divided  by  mutual  ill-will,  cannot  com- 
bine. The  highest  Seigneurs,  as  we  have  seen,  had  already 
emigrated, — with  a  view  of  putting  France  to  the  blush.  Neither 
are  arms  now  the  peculiar  property  of  Seigneurs ;  but  of  every 
mortal  who  has  ten  shillings  wherewith  to  buy  a  secondhand 
firelock. 

Besides,  those  starving  peasants,  after  all,  have  not  four 
feet  and  claws,  that  you  could  keep  them  down  permanently 
in  that  manner.  They  are  not  even  of  black  color:  they  are 
mere  Unwashed  Seigneurs ;  and  a  Seigneur  too  has  human 
bowels ! — The  Seigneurs  did  what  they  could ;  enrolled  in 
National  Guards ;  fled,  with  shrieks,  complaining  to  Heaven 
and  Earth.  One  Seigneur,  famed  Mcmmay  of  Quincey,  near 
r  See  Young,  i.  12,  48,  84,  &c. 


198  CARLYLE  Ii7«9 

Vesoul,  invited  all  the  rustics  of  his  neighborhood  to  a  banquet ; 
blew-up  his  Chateau  and  them  with  gunpowder;  and  instan- 
taneously vanished,  no  man  yet  knows  whither.^ — Some  half- 
dozen  years  after,  he  came  back;  and  demonstrated  that  it 
was  by  accident. 

Nor  are  the  Authorities  idle ;  though  unluckily,  all  Authori- 
ties, Municipalities  and  suchlike,  are  in  the  uncertain  transi- 
tionary  state ;  getting  regenerated  from  old  Monarchic  to  new 
Democratic;  no  Official  yet  knows  clearly  what  he  is.  Never- 
theless, Mayors  old  or  new  do  gather  Marechaussccs,  National 
Guards,  Troops  of  the  line ;  justice,  of  the  most  summary  sort, 
is  not  wanting.  The  Electoral  Committee  of  Macon,  though 
but  a  Committee,  goes  the  length  of  hanging,  for  its  own 
behoof,  as  many  as  twenty.  The  Prevot  of  Dauphine  tra- 
verses the  country  "  with  a  movable  column,"  with  tipstaves, 
gallows-ropes ;  for  gallows  any  tree  will  serve,  and  suspend 
its  culprit,  or  "  thirteen  "  culprits. 

Unhappy  country!  How  is  the  fair  gold-and-green  of  the 
ripe  bright  Year  defaced  with  horrid  blackness ;  black  ashes 
of  Chateaus,  black  bodies  of  gibbeted  Men!  Industry  has 
ceased  in  it;  not  sounds  of  the  hammer  and  saw,  but  of  the 
tocsin  and  alarm-drum.  The  sceptre  has  departed,  zvhither 
one  knows  not ; — breaking  itself  in  pieces :  here  impotent, 
there  tyrannous.  National  Guards  are  unskilful  and  of  doubt- 
ful purpose ;  Soldiers  arc  inclined  to  mutiny :  there  is  danger 
they  they  two  may  quarrel,  danger  that  they  may  agree.  Stras- 
burg  has  seen  riots:  a  Townhall  torn  to  shreds,  its  archives 
scattered  white  on  the  winds ;  drunk  soldiers  embracing  drunk 
citizens  for  three  days,  and  Mayor  Dietrich  and  Marshal 
Rochambeau  reduced  nigh  to  desperation.^ 

Through  the  middle  of  all  which  phenomena  is  seen,  on  his 
triumphant  transit,  "  escorted,"  through  Befort  for  instance, 
"  by  fifty  National  Horsemen  and  all  the  military  music  of  the 
place," — M.  Necker  returning  from  Bale !  Glorious  as  the 
meridian ;  though  poor  Necker  himself  partly  guesses  whither 
it  is  leading."  One  highest  culminating  day,  at  the  Paris 
Townhall ;    with    immortal    vivats,    with    wife    and    daughter 

s  Hist.  Pari.  ii.   161. 

^Arthur  Young,  i.  141.     Dampmartin,  Evencmcns  qui  se  sont  passes 
sous  mcs  ycux,  i.  105-127. 
u  Biographic  Universcllc,  §  Necker  (by  Lally-Tollendal). 


V 


July-August]  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION  199 

kneeling  publicly  to  kiss  his  hand ;  with  Besenval's  pardon 
granted, — but  indeed  revoked  before  sunset:  one  highest  day, 
but  then  lower  days,  and  ever  lower,  down  even  to  lowest! 
Such  magic  is  in  a  name;  and  in  the  want  of  a  name.  Like 
some  enchanted  Mambrino's  Helmet,  essential  to  victory, 
comes  this  "  Saviour  of  France ;"  beshouted,  becymballed  by 
the  world :  alas,  as  soon  to  be  rfwenchanted,  to  be  pitched 
shamefully  over  the  lists  as  a  Barber's  Basin !  Gibbon  "  could 
wish  to  show  him  "  (in  this  ejected,  Barber's-Basin  state)  to 
any  man  of  solidity,  who  were  minded  to  have  the  soul  burnt 
out  of  him,  and  become  a  caput  mortuum,  by  Ambition,  un- 
successful or  successful.^ 

Another  small  phasis  we  add,  and  no  more:  how,  in  the 
Autumn  months,  our  sharp-tempered  Arthur  has  been  "  pes- 
tered for  some  days  past,"  by  shot,  lead-drops  and  slugs, 
"  rattling  five  or  six  times  into  my  chaise  and  about  my  ears ;" 
all  the  mob  of  the  country  gone  out  to  kill  Game  U  It  is 
even  so.  On  the  Cliffs  of  Dover,  over  all  the  Marches  of 
France,  there  appear,  this  autumn,  two  signs  on  the  Earth: 
emigrant  flights  of  French  Seigneurs ;  emigrant  winged  flights 
of  French  Game !  Finished,  one  may  say,  or  as  good  as  finished, 
is  the  Preservation  of  Game  on  this  Earth ;  completed  for 
endless  Time.  What  part  it  had  to  play  in  the  History  of 
Civilization  is  played:    plaudite ;    exeat! 

In  this  manner  does  Sansculottism  blaze  up,  illustrating 
many  things ; — producing,  among  the  rest,  as  we  saw,  on  the 
Fourth  of  August,  that  semi-miraculous  Night  of  Pentecost  in 
the  National  Assembly ;  semi-miraculous,  which  had  its  causes, 
and  its  effect.  Feudalism  is  struck  dead ;  not  on  parchment 
only,  and  by  ink ;  but  in  very  fact,  by  fire ;  say,  by  self-com- 
bustion. This  conflagration  of  the  South-East  will  abate ;  will 
be  got  scattered,  to  the  West,  or  elsewhither :  extinguish  it  will 
not,  till  the  fuel  be  all  done. 

V  Gibbon's  Letters.         x  Young,  i.  176. 


260  CARLYLE  [1789 

Chapter  IV. — In  Queue. 

If  we  look  now  at  Paris,  one  thing  is  too  evident :  that  the 
Bakers'  shops  have  got  their  Queues,  or  Tails;  their  long 
strings  of  purchasers,  arranged  in  tail,  so  that  the  first  come 
be  the  first  served, — were  the  shop  once  open!  This  waiting 
in  tail,  not  seen  since  the  early  days  of  July,  again  makes 
its  appearance  in  August.  In  time,  we  shall  see  it  perfected 
by  practice  to  the  rank  almost  of  an  art ;  and  the  art,  or  quasi- 
art,  of  standing  in  tail  become  one  of  the  characteristics  of 
the  Parisian  People,  distinguishing  them  from  other  Peoples 
whatsoever. 

But  consider,  while  work  itself  is  so  scarce,  how  a  man 
must  not  only  realize  money,  but  stand  waiting  (if  his  wife 
is  too  weak  to  wait  and  struggle)  for  half-days  in  the  Tail, 
till  he  get  it  changed  for  dear  bad  bread !  Controversies,  to 
the  length  sometimes  of  blood  and  battery,  must  arise  in  these 
exasperated  Queues.  Or  if  no  controversy,  then  it  is  but  one, 
accordant  Paiige  Lingua  of  complaint  against  the  Powers  that 
be.  France  has  begun  her  long  Curriculum  of  Hungering, 
instructive  and  productive  beyond  Academic  Curriculums ; 
which  extends  over  some  seven  most  strenuous  years.  As 
Jean  Paul  says  of  his  own  life,  "  to  a  great  height  shall  the 
business  of  Hungering  go." 

Or  consider,  in  strange  contrast,  the  jubilee  Ceremonies ; 
for,  in  general,  the  aspect  of  Paris  presents  these  two  features : 
jubilee  ceremonials  and  scarcity  of  victual.  Processions  enough 
walk  in  jubilee;  of  Young  Women,  decked  and  dizened,  their 
ribands  all  tricolor ;  moving  with  song  and  tabor,  to  the 
Shrine  of  Sainte  Genevieve,  to  thank  her  that  the  Bastille  is 
down.  The  Strong  Men  of  the  Market,  and  the  Strong 
Women,  fail  not  with  their  bouquets  and  speeches.  Abbe 
Fauchet,  famed  in  such  work  (for  Abbe  Lcfevre  could  only 
distribute  powder)  blesses  tricolor  cloth  for  the  National 
Guard ;  and  makes  it  a  National  Tricolor  Flag ;  victorious, 
or  to  be  victorious,  in  the  cause  of  civil  and  religious  liberty 
all  over  the  world.  Fauchet,  we  say,  is  the  man  for  Te-Denms, 
and  public  Consecrations ; — to  which,  as  in  this  instance  of 
the  Flag,  our  National  Guard  will  "  reply  with  volleys  of  mus- 
ketry," Church  and  Cathedral  though  it  be  ;y  filling  Notre 
y  See  Hist.  Pari,  iii.  20;  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  &c. 


August]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  201 

Dame  with  such  noisiest  fuliginous  Amen,  significant  of  several 
things. 

On  the  whole,  we  will  say  our  new  Mayor  Bailly,  our  new 
Commander  Lafayette  named  also  "  Scipio-Americanus,"  have 
bought  their  preferment  dear.  Bailly  rides  in  gilt  state-coach, 
with  beef-eaters  and  sumptuosity;  Camille  Desmoulins,  and 
others,  sniffing  at  him  for  it :  Scipio  bestrides  the  "  white 
charger,"  and  waves  with  civic  plumes  in  sight  of  all  France. 
Neither  of  them,  however,  does  it  for  nothing;  but,  in  truth, 
at  an  exorbitant  rate.  At  this  rate,  namely :  of  feeding  Paris, 
and  keeping  it  from  fighting.  Out  of  the  City-funds,  some 
seventeen  thousand  of  the  utterly  destitute  are  employed 
digging  on  Montmartre,  at  tenpence  a  day,  which  buys  them, 
at  market  price,  almost  two  pounds  of  bad  bread : — they  look 
very  yellow,  when  Lafayette  goes  to  harangue  them.  The 
Townhall  is  in  travail,  night  and  day;  it  must  bring  forth 
Bread,  a  Municipal  Constitution,  regulations  of  all  kinds, 
curbs  on  the  Sansculottic  Press;    above  all.  Bread,  Bread. 

Purveyors  prowl  the  country  far  and  wide,  with  the  appetite 
of  lions ;  detect  hidden  grain,  purchase  open  grain ;  by  gentle 
means  or  forcible,  must  and  will  find  grain.  A  most  thankless 
task ;  and  so  difficult,  so  dangerous, — even  if  a  man  did  gain 
some  trifle  by  it!  On  the  19th  of  August,  there  is  food  for 
one  day .■2'  Complaints  there  are  that  the  food  is  spoiled,  and 
produces  an  effect  on  the  intestines:  not  corn  but  plaster-of- 
paris !  Which  effect  on  the  intestines,  as  well  as  that  "  smart- 
ing in  the  throat  and  palate,"  a  Townhall  Proclamation  warns 
you  to  disregard,  or  even  to  consider  as  drastic-beneficial. 
The  Mayor  of  Saint-Denis,  so  black  was  his  bread,  has,  by 
a  dyspeptic  populace,  been  hanged  on  the  Lanterne  there. 
National  Guards  protect  the  Paris  Corn-Market:  first  ten 
suffice;  then  six  hundred.^  Busy  are  ye,  Bailly,  Brissot  de 
Warville,  Condorcet,  and  ye  others ! 

For,  as  just  hinted,  there  is  a  Municipal  Constitution  to  be 
made  too.  The  old  Bastille  Electors,  after  some  ten  days  of 
psalmodying  over  their  glorious  victory,  began  to  hear  it 
asked,  in  a  splenetic  tone.  Who  put  yon  there?  They  accord- 
ingly had  to  give  place,  not  without  moanings  and  audible 
growlings  on  both  sides,  to  a  new  larger  Body,  specially  elected 
for  that  post.  Which  new  Body,  augmented,  altered,  then 
s  See  Bailly,  Mimoircs,  ii.  i37-409-  « I^i^t,  Pari  ii.  421. 


20  2  CARLYLE  [1789 

fixed  finally  at  the  number  of  Three  Hundred,  with  the  title 
of  Town  Representatives  {Rcprcscntants  dc  la  Commune),  now 
sits  there ;  rightly  portioned  into  Committees ;  assiduous 
making  a  Constitution ;  at  all  moments  when  not  seeking  flour. 

And  such  a  Constitution ;  little  short  of  miraculous :  one 
that  shall  "  consolidate  the  Revolution  " !  The  Revolution  is 
finished,  then?  Mayor  Bailly  and  all  respectable  friends  of 
Freedom  would  fain  think  so.  Your  Revolution,  like  jelly 
sufficiently  boiled,  needs  only  to  be  poured  into  shapes,  of 
Constitution,  and  "  consolidated  "  therein  ?  Could  it,  indeed, 
contrive  to  cool;  which  last,  however,  is  precisely  the  doubt- 
ful thing,  or  even  the  not  doubtful ! 

Unhappy  Friends  of  Freedom ;  consolidating  a  Revolution ! 
They  must  sit  at  work  there,  their  pavilion  spread  on  very 
Chaos ;  between  two  hostile  worlds,  the  Upper  Court-world, 
the  nether  Sansculottic  one ;  and,  beaten  on  by  both,  toil  pain- 
fully, perilously, — doing,  in  sad  literal  earnest,  "  the  impos- 
sible." 

Chapter  V.— The  Fourth  Estate. 

Pamphleteering  opens  its  abysmal  throat  wider  and  wider; 
never  to  close  more.  Our  Philosophes,  indeed,  rather  with- 
draw ;  after  the  manner  of  Marmontel,  "  retiring  in  disgust 
the  first  day."  Abbe  Raynal,  grown  gray  and  quiet  in  his 
Marseilles  domicile,  is  little  content  with  this  work :  the  last 
literary  act  of  the  man  will  again  be  an  act  of  rebellion ;  an 
indignant  Letter  to  the  Constituent  Assembly;  answered  by 
"  the  order  of  the  day."  Thus  also  Philosophe  Morellet 
puckers  discontented  brows ;  being  indeed  threatened  in  his 
benefices  by  that  Fourth  of  August:  it  is  clearly  going  too 
far.  How  astonishing  that  those  "  haggard  figures  in  woollen 
jupes  "  would  not  rest  as  satisfied  with  Speculation,  and  vic- 
torious Analysis,  as  we! 

Alas,  yes:  Speculation,  Philosophism,  once  the  ornament 
and  wealth  of  the  salon,  will  now  coin  itself  into  mere  Prac- 
tical Propositions,  and  circulate  on  street  and  highway,  uni- 
versally; with  results!  A  Fourth  Estate,  of  Able  Editors, 
springs  up;  increases  and  multiplies;  irrepressible,  incal- 
culable. New  Printers,  new  Journals,  and  ever  new  (so 
prurient  is  the  world),  let  our  Three  Hundred  curb  and  con- 


Aug.-Sepi.]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  203 

solidate  as  they  can  !  Loustalot,  under  the  wing  of  Prudhomme 
dull-blustering  Printer,  edits  weekly  his  Revolution  de  Paris; 
in  an  acrid,  emphatic  manner.  Acrid,  corrosive,  as  the  spirit 
of  sloes  and  copperas,  is  Marat,  Friend  of  the  People;  struck 
already  with  the  fact  that  the  National  Assembly,  so  full  of 
Aristocrats,  "  can  do  nothing,"  except  dissolve  itself  and  make 
way  for  a  better;  that  the  Townhall  Representatives  are  little 
other  than  babblers  and  imbeciles,  if  not  even  knaves.  Poor 
is  this  man;  squalid,  and  dwells  in  garrets;  a  man  unlovely 
to  the  sense,  outward  and  inward ;  a  man  forbid ; — and  is 
becoming  fanatical,  possessed  with  fixed-idea.  Cruel  liisus  of 
Nature !  Did  Nature,  O  poor  Marat,  as  in  cruel  sport,  knead 
thee  out  of  her  leavings  and  miscellaneous  waste  clay;  and 
fling  thee  forth,  stepdame-like,  a  Distraction  into  this  distracted 
Eighteenth  Century?  Work  is  appointed  thee  there;  which 
thou  shalt  do.  The  Three  Hundred  have  summoned  and  will 
again  summon  Marat:  but  always  he  croaks- forth  answer 
sufficient ;  always  he  will  defy  them,  or  elude  them ;  and  en- 
dure no  gag. 

Carra,  "  Ex-secretary  of  a  decapitated  Hospodar,"  and 
then  of  a  Necklace-Cardinal ;  likewise  Pamphleteer,  Ad- 
venturer in  many  scenes  and  lands, — draws  nigh  to  Mercier, 
of  the  Tableau  de  Paris;  and,  with  foam  on  his  lips,  proposes 
an  Annates  Patriotiqnes.  The  Moniteur  goes  its  prosperous 
way ;  Barrere  "  weeps  "  on  paper  as  yet  loyal ;  Rivarol,  Royou 
are  not  idle.  Deep  calls  to  deep:  your  Doniine  Salvum  Fac 
Regem  shall  awaken  Pangc  Lingua;  with  an  Ami-du-Peuple 
there  is  a  King's-Friend  Newspaper,  Ami-du-Roi.  Camille  / 
Desmoulins  has  appointed  himself  Procureur-Gencrale  de  la 
Lanterne,  Attorney-General  of  the  Lamp-iron ;  and  pleads, 
not  with  atrocity,  under  an  atrocious  title ;  editing  weekly  his 
brilliant  Revolutions  of  Paris  and  Brabant.  Brilliant,  we  say ; 
for  if,  in  that  thick  murk  of  Journalism,  with  its  dull  bluster- 
ing, with  its  fixed  or  loose  fury,  any  ray  of  genius  greet  thee, 
be  sure  it  is  Camille's.  The  thing  that  Camille  touches,  he 
with  his  light  finger  adorns:  brightness  plays,  gentle,  unex- 
pected, amid  horrible  confusions ;  often  is  the  word  of  Ca-  ^ 
mille  worth  reading,  when  no  otlicr's  is.  Questionable  Camille,  J 
how  thou  glitterest  with  a  fallen,  rebellious,  yet  still  semi- 
celestial  light:  as  is  the  starlight  on  the  brow  of  Lucifer! 
Son  of  the  Morning,  into  what  times  and  what  lands  art  thou 
fallen ! 


204 


CARLYLE  [1789 


But  in  all  things  there  is  good ; — though  it  be  not  good  for 
"  consolidating  Revolutions."  Thousand  wagon-loads  of  this 
Pamphleteering  and  Newspaper  matter  lie  rotting  slowly  in 
the  Public  Libraries  of  our  Europe.  Snatched  from  the  great 
gulf,  like  oysters  by  bibliomaniac  pearl-divers,  there  must  they 
first  rot,  then  what  was  pearl,  in  Camille  or  others,  may  be 
seen  as  such,  and  continue  as  such. 

Nor  has  public  speaking  declined,  though  Lafayette  and 
his  Patrols  look  sour  on  it.  Loud  always  in  the  Palais  Rayol, 
loudest  the  Cafe  de  Foy ;  such  a  miscellany  of  Citizens  and 
Citizenesses  circulating  there.  "  Now  and  then,"  according 
to  Camille,  "  some  Citizens  employ  the  liberty  of  the  press 
for  a  private  purpose;  so  that  this  or  the  other  Patriot  finds 
himself  short  of  his  watch  or  pocket-handkerchief !  "  But 
for  the  rest,  in  Camille's  opinion,  nothing  can  be  a  livelier 
image  of  the  Roman  Forum.  "  A  Patriot  proposes  his  motion ; 
if  it  finds  any  supporters,  they  make  him  mount  on  a  chair, 
and  speak.  If  he  is  applauded,  he  prospers  and  redacts ;  if 
he  is  hissed,  he  goes  his  ways."  Thus  they,  circulating  and 
perorating.  Tall  shaggy  Marquis  Saint-Huruge,  a  man  that 
has  had  losses,  and  has  deserved  them,  is  seen  eminent,  and 
also  heard.  "  Bellowing  "  is  the  character  of  his  voice,  like 
that  of  a  Bull  of  Bashan ;  voice  which  drowns  all  voices,  which 
causes  frequently  the  hearts  of  men  to  leap.  Cracked  or  half- 
cracked  is  this  tall  Marquis's  head,  uncracked  are  his  lungs; 
the  cracked  and  the  uncracked  shall  alike  avail  him. 

Consider  farther  that  each  of  the  Forty-eight  Districts  has 
its  own  Committee  ;  speaking  and  motioning  continually ;  aid- 
ing in  the  search  for  grain,  in  the  search  for  a  Constitution ; 
checking  and  spurring  the  poor  Three  Hundred  of  the  Town- 
hall.  That  Danton,  with  a  "  voice  reverberating  from  the 
domes,"  is  President  of  the  Cordeliers  District ;  which  has 
already  become  a  Goshen  of  Patriotism.  That  apart  from  the 
"  seventeen  thousand  utterly  necessitous,  digging  on  Mont- 
martre,"  most  of  whom,  indeed,  have  got  passes,  and  been 
dismissed  into  Space  "  with  four  shillings," — there  is  a  strike, 
or  union,  of  Domestics  out  of  place ;  who  assemble  for  public 
speaking:  next,  a  strike  of  Tailors,  for  even  they  will  strike 
and  speak ;  farther,  a  strike  of  JcKirneymen  Cordwainers ;  a 
strike  of  Apothecaries:  so  dear  is  bread.t  All  these,  having 
h  Histoire  Parlemcntairc,  ii.  359,  417,  423. 


Aug.-Sept.]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  205 

struck,  must  speak ;  generally  under  the  open  canopy ;  and 
pass  resolutions ; — Lafayette  and  his  Patrols  watching  them 
suspiciously  from  the  distance. 

Unhappy  mortals :  such  tugging  and  lugging,  and  throttling 
of  one  another,  to  divide,  in  some  not  intolerable  way,  the 
joint  Felicity  of  man  in  this  Earth ;  when  the  whole  lot  to 
be  divided  is  such  a  "  feast  of  shells!  " — Diligent  are  the 
Three  Hundred ;  none  equals  Scipio-Americanus  in  dealing 
with  mobs.  But  surely  all  these  things  bode  ill  for  the  con- 
solidating of  a  Revolution. 


BOOK   SEVENTH. 

THE    INSURRECTION    OF   WOMEN. 

Chapter  I. — Patrollotism. 

NO,  Friends,  this  Revolution  is  not  of  the  consoHdating 
kind.  Do  not  fires,  fevers,  sown  seeds,  chemical 
mixtures,  men,  events, — all  embodiments  of  Force 
that  work  in  this  miraculous  Complex  of  Forces  named  Uni- 
verse,— go  on  growing,  through  their  natural  phases  and  de- 
velopments, each  according  to  its  kind ;  reach  their  height, 
reach  their  visible  decline;  finally  sink  under,  vanishing,  and 
what  we  call  dief  They  all  grow;  there  is  nothing  but  what 
grows,  and  shoots  forth  into  its  special  expansion, — once  give 
it  leave  to  spring.  Observe  too  that  each  grows  with  a  rapidity 
proportioned,  in  general,  to  the  madness  and  unhealthiness 
there  is  in  it :  slow  regular  growth,  though  this  also  ends  in 
death,  is  what  we  name  health  and  sanity. 

A  Sansculottism,  which  has  prostrated  Bastilles,  which  has 
got  pike  and  musket,  and  now  goes  burning  Chateaus,  passing 
resolutions  and  haranguing  under  roof  and  sky,  may  be  said 
to  have  sprung;  and,  by  law  of  Nature,  must  grow.  To  judge 
by  the  madness  and  diseasedness  of  both  itself,  and  of  the 
soil  and  element  it  is  in,  one  might  expect  the  rapidity  and_J 
monstrosity  would  be  extreme. 

Many  things,  too,  especially  all  diseased  things,  grow  by 
shoots  and  fits.  The  first  grand  fit  and  shooting-forth  of 
Sansculottism  was  that  of  Paris  conquering  its  King;  for 
Bailly's  figure  of  rhetoric  was  ail-too  sad  a  reality.  The  King 
is  conquered;  going  at  large  on  his  parole;  on  condition, 
say,  of  absolutely  good  behavior, — which,  in  these  circum- 
stances, will  unhappily  mean  no  behavior  whatever.  A  quite 
untenable  position,  that  of  Majesty  put  on  its  good  behavior! 
Alas,  is  it  not  natural  that  whatever  lives  try  to  keep  itself 
living?     Whereupon  his  Majesty's  behavior  will  soon  become 

206 


Aug. -Sept.]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  207 

exceptionable ;  and  so  the  Second  grand  Fit  of  Sansculottism, 
that  of  putting  him  in  durance,  cannot  be  distant. 

Necker,  in  the  National  Assembly,  is  making  moan,  as 
usual,  about  his  Deficit:  Barriers  and  Customhouses  burnt; 
the  Tax-gatherer  hunted,  not  hunting;  his  Majesty's  Exchequer 
all  but  empty.  The  remedy  is  a  Loan  of  thirty  millions;  then, 
on  still  more  enticing  terms,  a  Loan  of  eighty  millions :  neither 
of  which  Loans,  unhappily,  will  the  Stockjobbers  venture  to 
lend.  The  Stockjobber  has  no  country,  except  his  own  black 
pool  of  Agio. 

And  yet,  in  those  days,  for  men  that  have  a  country,  what 
a  glow  of  patriotism  burns  in  many  a  heart;  penetrating  in- 
wards to  the  very  purse!  So  early  as  the  7th  of  August,  a 
Don  Patriotiqiie,  "  Patriotic  Gift  of  jewels  to  a  considerable 
extent,"  has  been  solemnly  made  by  certain  Parisian  women; 
and  solemnly  accepted  with  honorable  mention.  Whom  forth- 
with all  the  world  takes  to  imitating  and  emulating.  Patriotic 
Gifts,  always  with  some  heroic  eloquence,  which  the  Presi- 
dent must  answer  and  the  Assembly  listen  to,  flow  in  from  far 
and  near:  in  such  number  that  the  honorable  mention  can 
only  be  performed  in  "  lists  published  at  stated  epochs."  Each 
gives  what  he  can :  the  very  cordwainers  have  behaved  munifi- 
cently ;  one  landed  proprietor  gives  a  forest ;  fashionable 
society  gives  its  shoe-buckles,  takes  cheerfully  to  shoeties. 
Unfortunate-females  give  what  they  "  have  amassed  in  lov- 
ing."a     The  smell  of  all  cash,  as  Vespasian  thought,  is  good. 

Beautiful,  and  yet  inadequate !  The  Clergy  must  be  "  in- 
vited "  to  melt  their  superfluous  Church-plate, — in  the  Royal 
Mint.  Nay  finally,  a  Patriotic  Contribution,  of  the  forcible 
sort,  has  to  be  determined  on,  though  unwillingly:  let  the 
fourth  part  of  your  declared  yearly  revenue,  for  this  once 
only,  be  paid  down;  so  shall  a  National  Assembly  make  the 
Constitution,  undistracted  at  least  by  insolvency.  Their  own 
wages,  as  settled  on  the  17th  of  August,  arc  but  Eighteen 
Francs  a  day,  each  man ;  but  the  Public  Service  must  have 
sinews,  must  have  money.  To  appease  the  Deficit ;  not  to 
"comhler,  or  choke,  the  Deficit,"  if  you  or  mortal  could !  For 
withal,  as  Mirabeau  was  heard  saying,  "  it  is  the  Deficit  that 
saves  us." 

Towards  the  end  of  August,  our  National  Assembly  in  its 
a  Histoire  Parlementaire,  ii.  427. 


2o8  CARLYLE  [1789 

constitutional  labors  has  got  so  far  as  the  question  of  Veto: 
shall  Majesty  have  a  Veto  on  the  National  Enactments ;  or 
not  have  a  Veto?  What  speeches  were  spoken,  within  doors 
and  without ;  clear,  and  also  passionate  logic ;  imprecations, 
comminations ;  gone  happily,  for  most  part,  to  Limbo ! 
Through  the  cracked  brain  and  uncracked  lungs  of  Saint- 
Huruge,  the  Palais  Royal  rebellows  with  Veto.  Journalism 
is  busy,  France  rings  with  Veto.  "  I  never  shall  forget," 
says  Dumont,  "  my  going  to  Paris,  one  of  those  days,  with 
Mirabeau ;  and  the  crowd  of  people  we  found  waiting  for 
his  carriage  about  Le  Jay  the  Bookseller's  shop.  They  flung 
themselves  before  him ;  conjuring  him,  with  tears  in  their  eyes, 
not  to  suffer  the  Veto  Ahsoht.  They  were  in  a  frenzy: 
'  Monsieur  le  Comte,  you  are  the  People's  father,  you  must  save 
us ;  you  must  defend  us  against  those  villains  who  are  bringing 
back  Despotism.  If  the  King  get  this  Veto,  what  is  the  use  of 
National  Assembly?  We  are  slaves;  all  is  done.'  "&  Friends, 
if  the  sky  fall,  there  will  be  catching  of  larks !  Mirabeau,  adds 
Dumont,  was  eminent  on  such  occasions :  he  answered  vaguely, 
with  a  Patrician  imperturbability,  and  bound  himself  to  nothing. 

Deputations  go  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville ;  anonymous  Letters 
to  Aristocrats  in  the  National  Assembly,  threatening  that 
fifteen  thousand,  or  sometimes  that  sixty  thousand,  "  will 
march  to  illuminate  you."  The  Paris  Districts  are  astir; 
Petitions  signing:  Saint-Huruge  sets  forth  from  the  Palais 
Royal  with  an  escort  of  fifteen  hundred  individuals,  to  petition 
in  person.  Resolute,  or  seemingly  so,  is  the  tall  shaggy  Mar- 
quis, is  the  Cafe  de  Foy :  but  resolute  also  is  Commandant- 
General  Lafayette.  The  streets  are  all  beset  by  Patrols :  Saint- 
Huruge  is  stopped  at  the  Barriere  des  Bons  Homuies;  he  may 
bellow  like  the  bulls  of  Bashan,  but  absolutely  must  return. 
The  brethren  of  the  Palais  Royal  "  circulate  all  night,"  and 
make  motions,  under  the  open  canopy;  all  Coffeehouses  being 
shut.  Nevertheless  Lafayette  and  the  Townhall  do  prevail ; 
Saint-Huruge  is  thrown  into  prison;  Veto  Ahsolu  adjusts 
itself  into  Suspensive  Veto,  prohibition  not  forever,  but  for 
a  term  of  time ;  and  this  doom's  clamor  will  grow  silent,  as 
the  others  have  done. 

So  far  has  consolidation  prospered,  though  with  difficulty; 
repressing  the  Nether  Sansculottic  world ;  and  the  Constitu- 
b  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p.  156. 


Aug.-Sept]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  209 

tion  shall  be  made.  With  difficulty:  amid  jubilee  and  scarcity; 
Patriotic  Gifts,  Bakers'-queues ;  Abbe-Fauchet  Harangues, 
with  their  Amen  of  platoon-musketry!  Scipio-Americanus 
has  deserved  thanks  from  the  National  Assembly  and  France. 
They  offer  him  stipends  and  emoluments  to  a  handsome  ex- 
tent ;  all  which  stipends  and  emoluments  he,  covetous  of  far 
other  blessedness  than  mere  money,  does,  in  his  chivalrous 
way,  without  scruple,  refuse.  ~' 

To  the  Parisian  common  man,  meanwhile,  one  thing  re- 
mains inconceivable :  that  now  when  the  Bastille  is  down, 
and  French  Liberty  restored,  grain  should  continue  so  dear. 
Our  Rights  of  Man  are  voted.  Feudalism  and  all  Tyranny 
abolished;  yet  behold  we  stand  in  queue!  Is  it  Aristocrat 
forestallers ;  a  Court  still  bent  on  intrigues?  Something  is 
rotten  somewhere. 

And  yet,  alas,  what  to  do?  Lafayette,  with  his  Patrols, 
prohibits  everything,  even  complaint.  Saint-Huruge  and  other 
heroes  of  the  Veto  lie  in  durance.  People's-Friend  Marat 
was  seized ;  Printers  of  Patriotic  Journals  are  fettered  and 
forbidden ;  the  very  Hawkers  cannot  cry,  till  they  get  license 
and  leaden  badges.  Blue  National  Guards  ruthlessly  dissi- 
pate all  groups ;  scour,  with  levelled  bayonets,  the  Palais 
Royal  itself.  Pass,  on  your  affairs,  along  the  Rue  Taranne, 
the  Patrol,  presenting  his  bayonet,  cries.  To  the  left!  Turn  into 
the  Rue  Saint-Benoit,  he  cries.  To  the  right!  A  judicious 
Patriot  (like  Camille  Desmoulins,  in  this  instance)  is  driven, 
for  quietness'  sake,  to  take  the  gutter. 

O  much-suffering  People,  our  glorious  Revolution  is  evapo- 
rating in  tricolor  ceremonies  and  complimentary  harangues! 
Of  which  latter,  as  Loustalot  acridly  calculates,  "  upwards  of 
two  thousand  have  been  delivered  within  the  last  month  at 
the  Townhall  alone. "f  And  our  mouths,  unfilled  with  bread, 
are  to  be  shut,  under  penalties?  The  Caricaturist  promulgates 
his  emblematic  Tablature:  Le  Patrouillotismc  chassant  le  "n 
Patriotisme,  Patriotism  driven  out  by  Patrollotism.  Ruthless  |  <^.— 
Patrols ;  long  superfine  harangues ;  and  scanty  ill-baked 
loaves,  more  like  baked  Bath  bricks, — which  produce  an  effect 
on  the  intestines!     Where  will  this  end?     In  consolidation? 

c  Revolutions  dc  Paris  Newspaper  (cited  in  Histoire  Parlementaire, 
ii-  357). 

Vol.  I. — 14 


2IO  CARLYLE  [1789 


Chapter  II 0  Richard,  0  My  King. 

For,  alas,  neither  is  the  Townhall  itself  without  misgivings. 
The  Nether  Sansculottic  world  has  been  suppressed  hitherto: 
but  then  the  Upper  Court-world !  Symptoms  there  are  that 
the  CEil-de-Boeuf  is  rallying. 

More  than  once  in  the  Townhall  Sanhedrim,  often  enough 
from  those  outspoken  Bakers'-queues,  has  the  wish  uttered 
itself:  O  that  our  Restorer  of  French  Liberty  were  here; 
that  he  could  see  with  his  own  eyes,  not  with  the  false  eyes 
of  Queens  and  Cabals,  and  his  really  good  heart  be  enlight- 
ened !  For  falsehood  still  environs  him ;  intriguing  Dukes  de 
Guiche,  with  Bodyguards ;  scouts  of  Bouille ;  a  new  flight  of 
intriguers,  now  that  the  old  is  flown.  What  else  means  this 
advent  of  the  Regiment  de  Flandre ;  entering  Versailles,  as 
we  hear,  on  the  23d  of  September,  with  two  pieces  of  can- 
non? Did  not  the  Versailles  National  Guard  do  duty  at  the 
Chateau  ?  Had  they  not  Swiss ;  Hundred  Swiss ;  Gardcs-du- 
Corps,  Bodyguards  so-called?  Nay,  it  would  seem,  the  num- 
ber of  Bodyguards  on  duty  has,  by  a  manoeuvre,  been  doubled :  / 
the  new  relieving  Battalion  of  them  arrived  at  its  time ;  but. 
the  old  relieved  one  does  not  depart!  "^ 

Actually,  there  runs  a  whisper  through  the  best-informed 
Upper-Circles,  or  a  nod  still  more  portentous  than  whispering, 
of  his  Majesty's  flying  to  Metz;  of  a  Bond  (to  stand  by  him 
therein),  which  has  been  signed  by  Noblesse  and  Clergy,  to 
the  incredible  amount  of  thirty,  or  even  of  sixty  thousand.  La- 
fayette coldly  whispers  it,  and  coldly  asseverates  it,  to  Count 
d'Estaing  at  the  Dinner-table ;  and  D'Estaing,  one  of  the 
bravest  men,  quakes  to  the  core  lest  some  lackey  overhear  it ; 
^  and  tumbles  thoughtful,  without  sleep,  all  night.c^  Regiment 
Ide  Flandre,  as  we  said,  is  clearly  arrived.  His  Majesty,  they 
say,  hesitates  about  sanctioning  the  Fourth  of  August ;  makes 
observations,  of  chilling  tenor,  on  the  very  Rights  of  Man ! 
Likewise,  may  not  all  persons,  the  Bakers'-queues  themselves 
discern,  on  the  streets  of  Paris,  the  most  astonishing  number 
of  Officers  on  furlough,  Crosses  of  St.  Louis,  and  suchlike? 
Some  reckon  "from  a  thousand  to  twelve  hundred."     Oflicers 

d  Brouillon  de  Lcttrc  de  M.  d'Estaing  a  la  Reine  (in  Histoire  Parle- 
vtentaire,  iii.  24). 


October  1st]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  2II 

of  all  uniforms;    nay  one  uniform  never  before  seen  by  eye: 
green   faced   with   red!     The  tricolor  cockade  is  not  always -^ 
visible :    but    what,    in   the    name  of  Heaven,  may  these  black 
cockades,  which  some  wear,  foreshadow? 

Hunger  whets  everything,  especially  Suspicion  and  Indig- 
nation. Realities  themselves,  in  this  Paris,  have  grown  unreal, 
preternatural.  Phantasms  once  more  stalk  through  the  brain 
of  hungry  France.  O  ye  laggards  and  dastards,  cry  shrill 
voices  from  the  Queues,  if  ye  had  the  hearts  of  men,  ye  would 
take  your  pikes  and  secondhand  firelocks,  and  look  into  it ;  not 
leave  your  wives  and  daughters  to  be  starved,  murdered  and 
worse ! — Peace,  women !  The  heart  of  man  is  bitter  and 
heavy ;  Patriotism,  driven  out  by  Patrollotism,  knows  not  what 
to  resolve  on. 

The  truth  is,  the  CEil-de-Boeuf  has  rallied ;  to  a  certain  un- 
known extent.  A  changed  CEil-de-Boeuf ;  with  Versailles  Na- 
tional Guards,  in  their  tricolor  cockades,  doing  duty  there;  a 
Court  all  flaring  with  tricolor!  Yet  even  to  a  tricolor  Court 
men  will  rally.  Ye  loyal  hearts,  burnt-out  Seigneurs,  rally 
round  your  Queen  !  With  wishes ;  which  will  produce  hopes ; 
which  will  produce  attempts ! 

For  indeed  self-preservation  being  such  a  law  of  Nature, 
what  can  a  rallied  Court  do,  but  attempt  and  endeavor,  or 
call  it  plot, — with  such  wisdom  and  unwisdom  as  it  has? 
They  will  fly,  escorted,  to  Metz,  where  brave  Bouille  com- 
mands ;  they  will  raise  the  Royal  Standard :  the  Bond-signa- 
tures shall  become  armed  men.  Were  not  the  King  so  languid  ! 
Their  Bond,  if  at  all  signed,  must  be  signed  without  his  privity. 
— Unhappy  King,  he  has  but  one  resolution :  not  to  have  a 
civil  war.  For  the  rest,  he  still  hunts,  having  ceased  lock- 
making  ;  he  still  dozes,  and  digests ;  is  clay  in  the  hands  of 
the  potter.  Ill  will  it  fare  with  him,  in  a  world  where  all  is 
helping  itself;  where,  as  has  been  written,  "  whosoever  is  not 
hammer  must  be  stithy ;"  and  "  the  very  hyssop  on  the  wall 
grows  there,  in  that  chink,  because  the  whole  Universe  could 
not  prevent  its  growing !  " 

But  as  for  the  coming-up  of  this  Regiment  de  Flandre,  may 
it  not  be  urged  that  there  were  Saint-IIuruge  Petitions,  and 
continual  meal-mobs?  Undel)auche(l  soldiers,  be  there  plot, 
or  only  dim  elements  of  a  plot,  arc  always  good.     Did  not 


212  CARLYLE  [1789 

the  Versailles  Municipality  (an  old  Monarchic  one,  not  yet 
refoundeci  into  a  Democratic)  instantly  second  the  proposal? 
Nay  the  very  Versailles  National  Guard,  wearied  with  con- ' 
tinual  duty  at  the  Chateau,  did  not  object;  only  Draper  Le- 
cointre,  who  is  now  Major  Lecointre,  shook  his  head. — Yes, , 
Friends,  surely  it  was  natural  this  Regiment  de  Flandre  should 
be  sent  for,  since  it  could  be  got.  It  was  natural  that,  at  sight 
of  military  bandoleers,  the  heart  of  the  rallied  CEil-de-Bceuf 
should  revive ;  and  Maids  of  Honor,  and  gentlemen  of 
honor,  speak  comfortable  words  to  epauletted  defenders  and 
to  one  another.  Natural  also,  and  mere  common  civility,  that 
the  Bodyguards,  a  Regiment  of  Gentlemen,  should  invite  their 
Flandre  brethren  to  a  Dinner  of  welcome ! — Such  invitation,  in 
the  last  days  of  September,  is  given  and  accepted. 

Dinners  are  defined  as  "  the  ultimate  act  of  communion ;" 
men  that  can  have  communion  in  nothing  else,  can  sympa- 
thetically eat  together,  can  still  rise  into  some  glow  of  brother- 
hood over  food  and  wine.  The  Dinner  is  fixed  on,  for  Thurs- 
day the  First  of  October;  and  ought  to  have  a  fine  effect. 
Further,  as  such  Dinner  may  be  rather  extensive,  and  even 
the  Noncommissioned  and  the  Common  man  be  introduced, 
to  see  and  to  hear,  could  not  his  Majesty's  Opera  Apartment, 
which  has  Iain  quite  silent  ever  since  Kaiser  Joseph  was  here, 
be  obtained  for  the  purpose? — The  Hall  of  the  Opera  is 
granted ;  the  Salon  d'Hercule  shall  be  drawing-room.  Not 
only  the  Officers  of  Flandre,  but  of  the  Swiss,  of  the  Hundred 
Swiss ;  nay  of  the  Versailles  National  Guard,  such  of  them 
as  have  any  loyalty,  shall  feast:    it  will  be  a  Repast  like  few. 

And  now  suppose  this  Repast,  the  solid  part  of  it,  trans- 
acted ;  and  the  first  bottle  over.  Suppose  the  customary  loyal 
toasts  drunk ;  the  King's  health,  the  Queen's  with  deafening 
vivats ; — that  of  the  Nation  "  omitted,"  or  even  "  rejected." 
Suppose  champagne  flowing;  with  pot-valorous  speech,  with 
instrumental  music ;  empty  featherheads  growing  ever  the 
noisier,  in  their  own  emptiness,  in  each  other's  noise.  Her 
Majesty,  who  looks  unusually  sad  to-night  (his  Majesty  sitting 
dulled  with  the  day's  hunting),  is  told  that  the  sight  of  it 
would  cheer  her.  Behold !  She  enters  there,  issuing  from  her 
State-rooms,  like  the  Moon  from  clouds,  this  fairest  tmhappy 
Queen  of  Hearts;  royal  husband  by  her  side,  young  Dauphin 


October  ist]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  213 

in  her  arms !  She  descends  from  the  Boxes,  amid  splendor 
and  acclaim ;  walks  queenlikc  round  the  Tables ;  gracefully 
escorted,  gracefully  nodding ;  her  looks  full  of  sorrow,  yet 
of  gratitude  and  daring,  with  the  hope  of  France  on  her 
mother-bosom !  And  now,  the  band  striking  up,  O  Richard, 
O  mon  Roi,  rimivcrs  t'abandonne  (O  Richard,  O  my  King, 
the  world  is  all  forsaking  thee),  could  man  do  other  than 
rise  to  height  of  pity,  of  loyal  valor?  Could  featherheaded 
young  ensigns  do  other  than,  by  white  Bourbon  Cockades, 
handed  them  from  fair  fingers ;  by  waving  of  swords,  drawn 
to  pledge  the  Queen's  health ;  by  trampling  of  National  Cock- 
ades ;  by  scaling  the  Boxes,  whence  intrusive  murmurs  may 
come;  by  vociferation,  tripudiation,  sound,  fury  and  distrac- 
tion, within  doors  and  without, — testify  what  tempest-tost 
state  of  vacuity  they  are  in?  Till  champagne  and  tripudiation 
do  their  work ;  and  all  lie  silent,  horizontal ;  passively  slum- 
bering with  meed-of-battle  dreams  ! — 

A  natural  Repast ;  in  ordinary  times,  a  harmless  one :  now 
fatal,  as  that  of  Thyestes ;  as  that  of  Job's  Sons,  when  a 
strong  wind  smote  the  four  corners  of  their  banquet-house ! 
Poor  ill-advised  Marie- Antoinette ;  with  a  woman's  vehemence, 
not  with  a  sovereign's  foresight !  It  was  so  natural,  yet  so 
unwise.  Next  day,  in  public  speech  of  ceremony,  her  Majesty  _ 
declares  herself  "  delighted  with  the  Thursday."  \ 

The  heart  of  the  CEil-de-Boeuf  glows  into  hope ;  into  daring, 
which  is  premature.  Rallied  Maids  of  Honor,  waited  on  by 
Abbes,  sew  "  white  cockades ;"  distribute  them,  with  words, 
with  glances,  to  epauletted  youths ;  who  in  return,  may  kiss, 
not  without  fervor,  the  fair  sewing  fingers.  Captains  of  horse 
and  foot  go  swashing  with  "  enormous  white  cockades ;"  nay 
one  Versailles  National  Captain  has  mounted  the  like,  so  witch- 
ing were  the  words  and  glances,  and  laid  aside  his  tricolor ! 
Well  may  Major  Lecointrc  shake  his  head  with  a  look  of 
severity  ;  and  speak  audiljlc  resentful  words.  But  now  a  swash- 
buckler, with  enormous  white  cockade,  overhearing  the  Major, 
invites  him  insolently,  once  and  then  again  elsewhere,  to  re- 
cant ;  and  failing  that,  to  duel.  Which  latter  feat  Major  Le- 
cointre  declares  that  he  will  not  perform,  not  at  least  by  any 
known  laws  of  fence ;  that  he  nevertheless  will,  according  to 
mere  law  of  Nature,  by  dirk  and  blade,  "  exterminate  "  any 
"  vile  gladiator  "  who  may  insult  him  or  the  Nation ; — where- 


214  CARLYLE  [1789 

upon    (for   the   Major   is   actually   drawing   his   implement) 
"  they  are  parted,"  and  no  weasands  slit.o 


Chapter  III. — Black  Cockades. 

But  fancy  what  effect  this  Thyestes  Repast,  and  trampling 
on  the  National  Cockade,  must  have  had  in  the  Salic  des  Menus; 
in  the  famishing  Bakers'-queues  at  Paris !  Nay  such  Thyestes 
Repasts,  it  would  seem,  continue.  Flandre  has  given  its 
Counter-Dinner  to  the  Swiss  and  Hundred  Swiss ;  then  on 
Saturday  there  has  been  another. 

Yes,  here  with  us  is  famine;  but  yonder  at  Versailles  is 
food  enough  and  to  spare !  Patriotism  stands  in  queue, 
shivering  hunger-struck,  insulted  by  Patrollotism ;  while  i 
bloodyminded  Aristocrats,  heated  with  excess  of  high  living,  ' 
trample  on  the  National  Cockade.  Can  the  atrocity  be  true? 
Nay  look :  green  uniforms  faced  with  red ;  black  cockades, 
— the  color  of  Night !  Are  we  to  have  military  onfall ;  and 
death  also  by  starvation?  For,  behold,  the  Corbeil  Cornboat, 
which  used  to  come  twice  a-day,  with  its  plaster-of-paris 
meal,  now  comes  only  once.  And  the  Townhall  is  deaf ;  and 
the  men  are  laggard  and  dastard ! — At  the  Cafe  de  Foy,  this 
Saturday  evening,  a  new  thing  is  seen,  not  the  last  of  its 
kind :  a  woman  engaged  in  public  speaking.  Her  poor  man, 
she  says,  was  put  to  silence  by  his  District ;  their  Presidents 
and  Officials  would  not  let  him  speak.  Wherefore  she  here, 
with  her  shrill  tongue,  will  speak ;  denouncing,  while  her 
breath  endures,  the  Corbeil  Boat,  the  plaster-of-paris  bread, 
sacrilegious  Opera-dinners,  green  uniforms.  Pirate  Aristo- 
crats, and  those  black  cockades  of  theirs ! — 

Truly,  it  is  time  for  the  black  cockades  at  least  to  vanish. 
Them  Patrollotism  itself  will  not  protect.  Nay  sharp-tempered 
"  M.  Tassin,"  at  the  Tuileries  parade  on  Sunday  morning,  for- 
gets all  National  military  rule ;  starts  from  the  ranks,  wrenches 
down  one  black  cockade  which  is  swashing  ominous  there,  and 
tramples  it  fiercely  into  the  soil  of  France.  Patrollotism  itself 
is  not  without  suppressed  fury.  Also  the  Districts  begin  to 
stir ;    the  voice  of  President  Danton  reverberates  in  the  Cor- 

a  Moniteiir  (in  Histoire  Parlementaire,  iii.  59);  Deux  Amis,  iii.  128- 
141;  Campan,  ii.  70-85;  &c.  &c. 


October  4th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  215 

deliers :    People's-Friend  Marat  has  flown  to  Versailles  and 
back  again; — swart  bird,  not  of  the  halcyon  kind.6 

And  so  Patriot  meets  promenading  Patriot,  this  Sunday; 
and  sees  his  own  grim  care  reflected  on  the  face  of  another. 
Groups,  in  spite  of  Patrollotism,  which  is  not  so  alert  as 
usual,  fluctuate  deliberative;  groups  on  the  Bridges,  on  the 
Quais,  at  the  patriotic  Cafes.  And  ever  as  any  black  cock- 
ade may  emerge,  rises  the  many-voiced  growl  and  bark:  A 
has,  Down!  All  black  cockades  are  ruthlessly  plucked  of¥: 
one  individual  picks  his  up  again ;  kisses  it,  attempts  to  refix 
it ;  but  a  "  hundred  canes  start  into  the  air,"  and  he  desists. 
Still  worse  went  it  with  another  individual ;  doomed,  by  ex- 
temporate  Plchiscitum,  to  the  Lanterne;  saved,  with  diffi- 
culty, by  some  active  Corps-de-Garde. — Lafayette  sees  signs 
of  an  effervescence;  which  he  doubles  his  Patrols,  doubles 
his  diligence,  to  prevent.     So  passes  Sunday  the  4th  of  October 

1789. 

Sullen  is  the  male  heart,  repressed  by  Patrollotism ;  vehe- 
ment is  the  female,  irrepressible.  The  public-speaking  woman 
at  the  Palais  Royal  was  not  the  only  speaking  one : — Men  know 
not  what  the  pantry  is,  when  it  grows  empty;  only  house- 
mothers know.  O  women,  wives  of  men  that  will  only  cal- 
culate and  not  act!  Patrollotism  is  strong;  but  Death,  by- 
starvation  and  military  onfall,  is  stronger.  Patrollotism  re- 
presses male  Patriotism ;  but  female  Patriotism  ?  Will  Guards 
named  National  thrust  their  bayonets  into  the  bosoms  of 
women?  Such  thought,  or  rather  such  dim  unshaped  raw 
material  of  a  thought,  ferments  universally  under  the  female 
nightcap;  and,  by  earliest  daybreak,  on  slight  hint,  will  ex- 
plode. 

Chapter  IV. — The  Menads. 

If  Voltaire  once,  in  splenetic  humor,  asked  his  country- 
men :  "  But  you,  Gualches,  what  have  you  invented  ?  "  they 
can  now  answer:  The  Art  of  Insurrection.  It  was  an  art 
needed  in  these  last  singular  times:  an  art  for  which  the 
French  nature,  so  full  of  vehemence,  so  free  from  depth,  was 
perhaps  of  all  others  the  fittest. 

b  Camille's  Newspaper.  Revolutions  dc  Paris  ct  dc  Brabant  (in  His- 
toire  Parlctiicntairc,  iii.  108). 


2i6  CARLYLE  [1789 

Accordingly,  to  what  a  height,  one  may  well  say  of  per- 
fection, has  this  branch  of  human  industry  been  carried  by 
France,    within    the    last    half-century!     Insurrection,    which 
Lafayette   thought   might   be   "  the   most   sacred   of   duties," 
ranks  now,  for  the  French  people,  among  the  duties  which 
they  can  perform.     Other  mobs  are  dull  masses ;    which  roll 
onwards  with  a  dull  fierce  tenacity,  a  dull  fierce  heat,  but  emit 
no  light-flashes  of  genius  as  they  go.    The  French  mob,  again, 
is  among  the  liveliest  phenomena  of  our  world.     So  rapid,     ^y 
audacious ;    so  clear-sighted,   inventive,  prompt  to   seize  the  i    ■  "^ 
moment ;    instinct  with  life  to  its  finger-ends !     That  talent,-- 
were  there  no  other,  of  spontaneously  standing  in  queue,  dis- 
tinguishes, as  we  said,  the  French  People  from  all  Peoples, 
ancient  and  modern. 

Let  the  Reader  confess  too  that,  taking  one  thing  with 
another,  perhaps  few  terrestrial  Appearances  are  better  worth 
considering  than  mobs.  Your  mob  is  a  genuine  outburst  of 
Nature ;  issuing  from,  or  communicating  with,  the  deepest 
deep  of  Nature.  When  so  much  goes  grinnipg  and  grimacing 
as  a  lifeless  Formality,  and  under  the  stifif  'i^uckram  no  heart 
can  be  felt  beating,  here  once  more,  if  nowhere  else,  is  a  Sin- 
cerity and  Reality.  Shudder  at  it ;  or  even  shriek  over  it, 
if  thou  must;  nevertheless  consider  it.  Such  a  Complex  of 
human  Forces  and  Individualities  hurled  forth,  in  their  trans- 
cendental mood,  to  act  and  react,  on  circumstances  and  on 
one  another ;  to  work  out  what  it  is  in  them  to  work.  The 
thing  they  will  do  is  known  to  no  man ;  least  of  all  to  them- 
selves. It  is  the  inflammablest  immeasurable  Firework,  gen- 
erating, consuming  itself.  With  what  phases,  to  what  extent, 
with  what  results  it  will  burn  off,  Philosophy  and  Perspicacity 
conjecture  in  vain. 

"  Man,"  as  has  been  written,  "  is  forever  interesting  to  man ; 
"  nay  properly  there  is  nothing  else  interesting."  In  which  light 
also  may  we  not  discern  why  most  Battles  have  become  so  weari- 
some? Battles,  in  these  ages,  are  transacted  by  mechanism; 
with  the  slightest  possible  development  of  human  individuality 
or  spontaneity:  men  now  even  die,  and  kill  one  another,  in  an 
artificial  manner.  Battles  ever  since  Homer's  time,  when  they 
were  Fighting  Mobs,  have  mostly  ceased  to  be  worth  looking  > 
at,  worth  reading  of  or  remembering.  How  many  wearisome" 
bloody  Battles  does  History  strive  to  represent ;  or  even,  in  a 


1 


October  5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  217 

husky  way,  to  sing: — and  she  would  omit  or  carelessly  slur- 
over  this  one  Insurrection  of  Women  ? 

A  thought,  or  dim  raw-material  of  a  thought,  was  fermenting 
all  night,  universally  in  the  female  head,  and  might  explode.  In 
squalid  garret,  on  Monday  morning  Maternity  awakes,  to  hear 
children  weeping  for  bread.  Maternity  must  forth  to  the 
streets,  to  the  herb-markets  and  Bakers'-queues ;  meets  there 
with  hunger-stricken  Maternity,  sympathetic,  exasperative.  O 
we  unhappy  women !  But,  instead  of  Bakers'-queues,  why  not  | 
to  Aristocrats'  palaces,  the  root  of  the  matter?  Allans !  Let 
us  assemble.  To  the  H6tel-de-Ville ;  to  Versailles;  to  the 
Lanterne. 

In  one  of  the  Guardhouses  of  the  Quartier  Saint-Eustache, 
"  a  young  woman  "  seizes  a  drum, — for  how  shall  National 
Guards  give  fire  on  women,  on  a  young  woman?  The  young 
woman  seizes  the  drum;  sets  forth,  beating  it,  "  uttering  cries 
relative  to  the  dearth  of  grains."  Descend,  O  mothers  ;  descend, 
ye  Judiths,  to  food  and  revenge! — All  women  gather  and  go; 
crowds  storm  all  stairs,  force  out  all  women:  the  female  In- 
surrectionary Force,  according  to  Camille,  resembles  the  Eng- 
lish Naval  one  ;  there  is  a  universal  "  Press  of  women."  Robust 
Dames  of  the  Halle,  slim  Mantua-makers,  assiduous,  risen  with 
the  dawn ;  ancient  Virginity  tripping  to  matins  ;  the  Housemaid, 
with  early  broom ;  all  must  go.  Rouse  ye,  O  women ;  the  lag- 
gard men  will  not  act ;  they  say,  we  ourselves  may  act ! 

And  so,  like  snowbreak  from  the  mountains,  for  every  stair- 
case is  a  melted  brook,  it  storms;  tumultuous,  wild-shrilling, 
towards  the  H6tel-de-Ville.     Tumultuous ;    with    or    without 
drum-music :  for  the  Faubourg  Saint- Antoine  also  has  tucked- 
up  its  gown ;  and  with  besom-staves,  fire-irons,  and  even  rusty 
pistols  (void  of  ammunition),  is  flowing  on.     Sound  of  it  flies, 
with  a  velocity  of  sound,  to  the  utmost  Barriers.     By  seven  ■, 
o'clock,  on  this  raw  October  morning,  fifth  of  the  month,  the  < 
Townhall  will  see  wonders.     Nay,  as  chance  would  have  it,  a 
male  party  are  already  there;  clustering  tumultuously  round 
some  National  Patrol,  and  a  Baker  who  has  been  seized  with 
short  weights.     They  are  there  ;  and  have  even  lowered  the  rope . 
of  the  Lanterne.     So  that  the  of^cial  persons  have  to  snmgglo 
forth  the  short-weighing  Baker  by  back-doors,  and  even  send 
"  to  all  the  Districts  "  for  more  force. 

Grand  it  was,  says  Camille,  to  see  so  many  Judiths,  from  eight 


2i8  CARLYLE  [1789 

to  ten  thousand  of  them  in  all,  rushing  out  to  search  into  the 
root  of  the  matter !  Not  unfrightful  it  must  have  been ;  ludicro- 
terrific,  and  most  unmanageable.  At  such  hour  the  over- 
watched Three  Hundred  are  not  yet  stirring:  none  but  some 
Clerks,  a  company  of  National  Guards ;  and  M.  de  Gouvion, 
the  Major-general.  Gouvoin  has  fought  in  America  for  the 
cause  of  civil  Liberty ;  a  man  of  no  inconsiderable  heart,  but 
deficient  in  head.  He  is,  for  the  moment,  in  his  back  apart- 
ment ;  assuaging  Usher  Maillard,  the  Bastille-sergeant,  who 
has  come,  as  too  many  do,  with  "  representation."  The  as- 
suagement is  still  incomplete  when  our  Judiths  arrive. 

The  National  Guards  form  on  the  outer  stairs,  with  levelled 
bayonets ;  the  ten  thousand  Judiths  press  up,  resistless ;  with 
obtestations,  with  outspread  hands, — merely  to  speak  to  the 
Mayor.  The  rear  forces  them ;  nay  from  male  hands  in  the  rear, 
stones  already  fly;  the  National  Guard  must  do  one  of  two 
things ;  sweep  the  Place  de  Greve  with  cannon,  or  else  open  to 
right  and  left.  They  open ;  the  living  deluge  rushes  in. 
Through  all  rooms  and  cabinets,  upwards  to  the  topmost  belfry : 
ravenous ;  seeking  arms,  seeking  Mayors,  seeking  justice ; — 
while,  again,  the  better-dressed  speak  kindly  to  the  Clerks  ;  point 
out  the  misery  of  these  poor  women ;  also  their  ailments,  some 
even  of  an  interesting  sort.o 

Poor  M.  de  Gouvion  is  shiftless  in  this  extremity ; — a  man 
shiftless,  perturbed :  who  will  one  day  commit  suicide.  How 
happy  for  him  that  Usher  Maillard  the  shifty  was  there,  at  the 
moment,  though  making  representations  !  Fly  back,  thou  shifty 
Maillard :  seek  the  Bastille  Company ;  and  O  return  fast  with 
it ;  above  all,  with  thy  own  shifty  head !  For,  behold,  the 
Judiths  can  find  no  Mayor  or  Municipal ;  scarcely,  in  the  top- 
most belfry,  can  they  find  poor  Abbe  Lefevre  the  Powder-dis- 
tributor. Him,  for  want  of  a  better,  they  suspend  there :  in  the 
pale  morning  light;  over  the  top  of  all  Paris,  which  swims  in 
one's  failing  eyes : — a  horrible  end  ?  Nay  the  rope  broke,  as 
French  ropes  often  did ;  or  else  an  Amazon  cut  it.  Abbe  Le- 
fevre falls,  some  twenty  feet,  rattling  among  the  leads  ;  and  lives 
long  years  after,  though  always  with  "  a  tremblemcnt  in  the 
limbs."ft 

And  now  doors  fly  under  hatchets ;  the  Judiths  have  broken 

a  Deux  Amis,  iii.   141-166. 

b  Dusaulx,  Prise  de  la  Bastille,  note,  p.  281. 


October  5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  219 

the  Armory ;  have  seized  guns  and  cannons,  three  money-bags, 
paper-heaps ;  torches  flare :  in  few  minutes,  our  brave  H6tel-de- 
Ville,  which  dates  from  the  Fourth  Henry,  will,  with  all  that  it    >/ 
holds,  be  in  flames  ! 


Chapter  V. — Usher  Maillard. 

In  flames,  truly, — were  it  not  that  Usher  Maillard,  swift  of 
foot,  shifty  of  head,  has  returned ! 

Maillard,  of  his  own  motion, — for  Gouvion  or  the  rest  would 
not  even  sanction  him, — snatches  a  drum ;  descends  the  Porch- 
stairs,  ran-tan,  beating  sharp,  with  loud  rolls,hisRogues'-march: 
To  Versailles!  Allans;  a  Versailles!  As  men  beat  on  kettle  or 
warming-pan,  when  angry  she-bees,  or  say,  flying  desperate 
wasps,  are  to  be  hived ;  and  the  desperate  insects  hear  it,  and 
cluster  round  it, — simply  as  round  a  guidance,  where  there  was 
none :  so  now  these  Menads  round  shifty  Maillard,  Riding- 
Usher  of  the  Chatelet.  The  axe  pauses  uplifted  ;  Abbe  Lefevre 
is  left  half-hanged :  from  the  belfry  downwards  all  vomits  itself. 
What  rub-a-dub  is  that?  Stanislas  Maillard,  Bastille  hero,  will 
lead  us  to  Versailles  ?  Joy  to  thee,  Maillard ;  blessed  art  thou 
above  Riding-Ushers !     Away,  then,  away  ! 

The  seized  cannon  are  yoked  with  seized  cart-horses :  brown- 
locked  Demoiselle  Theroigne,  with  pike  and  helmet,  sits  there  as 
gunneress,  "  with  haughty  eye  and  serene  fair  countenance ;  " 
comparable,  some  think,  to  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  or  even  recall- 
ing "  the  idea  of  Pallas  Athene. "<^  Maillard  (for  his  drum  still 
rolls)  is,  by  heaven-rending  acclamation,  admitted  General. 
Maillard  hastens  the  languid  march.  Maillard,  beating 
rhythmic,  with  sharp  ran-tan,  all  along  the  Quais,  leads  forward, 
with  difficulty,  his  Menadic  host.  Such  a  host — marched  not  in 
silence  !  The  bargeman  pauses  on  the  River ;  all  wagoners  and 
coach-drivers  fly ;  men  peer  from  windows, — not  women,  lest 
they  be  pressed.  Sight  of  sights :  Bacchantes,  in  these  ultimate 
Formalized  Ages!  Bronze  Henri  looks  on,  from  his  Pont- 
Neuf ;  the  Monarchic  Louvre,  Medicean  Tuileries  see  a  day  like 
none  heretofore  seen. 

And  now  Maillard  has  his  Menads  in  the  Champs  FJysces 
(Fields  Tartarean  rather)  ;  and  the  H6tel-dc-Ville  has  sufi^ered 
comparatively  nothing.     Broken  doors ;  an  Abbe  Lefevre,  who 

c  Deux  Amis,  iii.  157. 


220 


CARLYLE  [1789 


shall  never  more  distribute  powder ;  three  sacks  of  money,  most 
part  of  which  (for  Sansculottism,  though  famishing,  is  not  with- 
out honor)  shall  be  returned  :<^  this  is  all  the  damage.  Great 
Maillard  !  A  small  nucleus  of  Order  is  round  his  drum ;  but  his 
outskirts  fluctuate  like  the  mad  Ocean:  for  Rascality  male  and 
female  is  flowing  in  on  him,  from  the  four  winds  :  guidance  there 
is  none  but  in  his  single  head  and  two  drumsticks. 

O  Maillard,  when,  since  War  first  was,  had  General  of  Force 
such  a  task  before  him  as  thou  this  day  ?  Walter  the  Penniless 
still  touches  the  feeling  heart :  but  then  Walter  had  sanction ; 
had  space  to  turn  in ;  and  also  his  Crusaders  were  of  the  male 
sex.  Thou,  this  day,  disowned  of  Heaven  and  Earth,  art  Gen- 
eral of  Menads.  Their  inarticulate  frenzy  thou  must,  on  the 
spur  of  the  instant,  render  into  articulate  words,  into  actions  that 
are  not  frantic.  Fail  in  it,  this  way  or  that !  Pragmatical 
Officiality,  with  its  penalties  and  law-books,  waits  before  thee ; 
Menads  storm  behind.  If  such  hewed  off  the  melodious  head 
of  Orpheus,  and  hurled  it  into  the  Peneus  waters,  what  may  they 
not  make  of  thee, — the  rhythmic  merely,  with  no  music  but  a 
sheep-skin  drum! — Maillard  did  not  fail.  Remarkable  Mail-  ;  ■, 
lard,  if  fame  were  not  an  accident,  and  History  a  distillation  of  '  '^ 
Rumor,  how  remarkable  wert  thou ! 

On  the  Elysian  Fields  there  is  pause  and  fluctuation ;  but,  for 
Maillard,  no  return.  He  persuades  his  Menads,  clamorous  for 
arms  and  the  Arsenal,  that  no  arms  are  in  the  Arsenal ;  that  an 
unarmed  attitude,  and  petition  to  a  National  Assembly,  will  be 
the  best :  he  hastily  nominates  or  sanctions  generalesses,  captains 
of  tens  and  fifties ; — and  so,  in  loosest-flowing  order,  to  the 
rhythm  of  some  "eight  drums"  (having  laid  aside  his  own), 
with  the  Bastille  Volunteers  bringing  up  his  rear,  once  more 
takes  the  road. 

Chaillot,  which  will  promptly  yield  baked  loaves,  is  not 
plundered ;  nor  are  the  Sevres  Potteries  broken.  The  old 
arches  of  Sevres  Bridge  echo  under  Menadic  feet ;  Seine 
River  gushes  on  with  his  perpetual  murmur;  and  Paris  flings 
after  us  the  boom  of  tocsin  and  alarm-drum,  inaudible,  for 
the  present,  amid  shrill-sounding  hosts,  and  the  splash  of 
rainy  weather.  To  Meudon,  to  Saint-Cloud,  on  both  hands, 
the  report  of  them  is  gone  abroad ;  and  hearths,  this  evening, 
will  have  a  topic.     The  press  of  women  still  continues,  for  it 

d  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  310. 


October  5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  221 

is  the  cause  of  all  Eve's  Daughters,  mothers  that  are,  or  that 
ought  to  he.  No  carriage-lady,  were  it  with  never  such  hys- 
terics, hut  must  dismount,  in  the  mud-roads,  in  her  silk  shoes, 
and  walk.c  In  this  manner,  amid  wild  October  weather,  they, 
a  wild  unwinged  stork-flight,  through  the  astonished  country 
wend  their  way.  Travellers  of  all  sorts  they  stop;  especially 
travellers  or  couriers  from  Paris.  Deputy  Lechapclier,  in  his 
elegant  vesture,  from  his  elegant  vehicle,  looks  forth  amazed 
through  his  spectacles ;  apprehensive  for  life ; — states  eagerly 
that  he  is  Patriot-Deputy  Lechapelier,  and  even  Old-President 
Lechapelier,  who  presided  on  the  Night  of  Pentecost,  and  is 
original  member  of  the  Breton  Club.  Thereupon  "  rises  huge 
shout  of  Vive  Lechapelier,  and  several  armed  persons  spring 
up  behind  and  before  to  escort  X-nm^f 

Nevertheless,  news,  despatches  from  Lafayette,  or  vague 
noise  of  rumor,  have  pierced  through,  by  side  roads.  In  the 
National  Asseinbly,  while  all  is  busy  discussing  the  order  of 
the  day;  regretting  that  there  should  be  Anti-National  Re- 
pasts in  Opera-halls;  that  his  Majesty  should  still  hesitate 
about  accepting  the  Rights  of  Man,  and  hang  conditions  and 
peradventures  on  them, — Mirabeau  steps  up  to  the  President, 
experienced  Mounier  as  it  chanced  to  be ;  and  articulates,  in 
bass-undertone:  "Mounier,  Paris  marche  sur  nous  (Paris  is 
marching  on  us)." — "  May  be  (Je  n'en  sais  rien) !  " — "  Believe 
it  or  disbelieve  it,  that  is  not  my  concern ;  but  Paris,  I  say,  is 
marching  on  us.  Fall  suddenly  unwell;  go  over  to  the  Cha- 
teau ;  tell  them  this.  There  is  not  a  moment  to  lose." — "  Paris 
marching  on  us  ?  "  responds  Mounier,  with  an  atrabiliar  ac- 
cent: "  Well,  so  much  the  better.  We  shall  the  sooner  be  a  Re- 
public." Mirabeau  quits  him,  as  one  quits  an  experienced 
President  getting  blind-fold  into  deep  waters ;  and  the  order 
of  the  day  continues  as  before. 

Yes,  Paris  is  marching  011  us;  and  more  than  the  women 
of  Paris!  Scarcely  was  Maillard  gone,  when  M.  de  Gouvion's 
message  to  all  the  Districts,  and  such  tocsin  and  drumming  of 
the  gcncrale.  began  to  take  cfToct.  Armed  National  Guards 
from  every  District ;  especially  the  Grenadiers  of  the  Centre, 
who  are  our  old  Gardes  Fran(;aises,  arrive,  in  quick  sequence, 
on  the  Place  de  Greve.  An  "  immense  people  "  is  there ;   Saint- 

e  Deux  Amis,  iii.  15Q. 

/Ibid.  ii.  177;  Dictionnairc  dcs  Homines  Marquans,  ii.  379, 


222  CARLYLE  [1789 

Antoine,  with  pike  and  rusty  firelock,  is  all  crowding  thither, 
be  it  welcome  or  unwelcome.  The  Centre  Grenadiers  are  re- 
ceived with  cheering :  "  It  is  not  cheers  that  we  want,"  answer 
they  gloomily ;  "  the  Nation  has  been  insulted ;  to  arms,  and 
come  with  us  for  orders!  "  Ha,  sits  the  wind  sof  Patriotism 
and  Patrollotism  are  now  one ! 

The  Three  Hundred  have  assembled ;  "  all  the  Committees 
are  in  activity ;"  Lafayette  is  dictating  despatches  for  Ver- 
sailles, when  a  Deputation  of  the  Centre  Grenadiers  introduces 
itself  to  him.  The  Deputation  makes  military  obeisance ;  and 
thus  speaks,  not  without  a  kind  of  thought  in  it:  "  Mon 
General,  we  are  deputed  by  the  Six  Companies  of  Grena- 
diers. We  do  not  think  you  a  traitor,  but  we  think  the  Govern- 
ment betrays  you ;  it  is  time  that  this  end.  We  cannot  turn 
our  bayonets  against  women  crying  to  us  for  bread.  The 
people  are  miserable,  the  source  of  the  mischief  is  at  Ver- 
sailles :  we  must  go  seek  the  King,  and  bring  him  to  Paris. 
We  must  exterminate  {cxter miner)  the  Regiment  de  Flandre 
and  the  Gardes-du-Corps,  who  have  dared  to  trample  on  the 
National  Cockade.  If  the  King  be  too  weak  to  wear  his 
crown,  let  him  lay  it  down.  You  will  crown  his  Son,  you 
will  name  a  Council  of  Regency :  and  all  will  go  better.''^ 
Reproachful  astonishment  paints  itself  on  the  face  of  Lafayette ; 
speaks  itself  from  his  eloquent  chivalrous  lips :  in  vain.  "  My 
General,  we  would  shed  the  last  drop  of  our  blood  for  you ; 
but  the  root  of  the  mischief  is  at  Versailles ;  we  must  go  and 
bring  the  King  to  Paris ;  all  the  people  wish  it,  tout  le  peuple 
le  veut." 

My  General  descends  to  the  outer  staircase ;  and  harangues : 
once  more  in  vain.  "  To  Versailles  !  To  Versailles  !  "  Mayor 
Bailly,  sent  for  through  floods  of  Sansculottism,  attempts 
academic  oratory  from  his  gilt  state-coach ;  realizes  nothing 
but  infinite  hoarse  cries  of:  "Bread!  To  Versailles!" — and 
gladly  shrinks  within  doors.  Lafayette  mounts  the  white 
charger;  and  again  harangues,  and  reharangues:  with  elo- 
quence, with  firmness,  indignant  demonstration ;  with  all  things 
but  persuasion.  "  To  Versailles !  To  Versailles !  "  So  lasts 
it,  hour  after  hour; — for  the  space  of  half  a  day. 

The  great  Scipio-Americanus  can  do  nothing;  not  so  much 
as  escape.     "Morbleu,  mon  General,"  cry  the  Grenadiers  serry- 

S  Deux  Amis,  iii.  161. 


October  5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  223 

ing  their  ranks  as  the  white  charger  makes  a  motion  that 
way,  "  you  will  not  leave  us,  you  will  abide  with  us !  "  A 
perilous  juncture:  Mayor  Bailly  and  the  Municipals  sit  quak- 
ing within  doors ;  my  General  is  prisoner  without :  the  Place 
de  Greve,  with  its  thirty  thousand  Regulars,  its  whole  irregu- 
lar Saint-Antoine  and  Saint-Marceau,  is  one  minatory  mass 
of  clear  or  rusty  steel ;  all  hearts  set,  with  a  moody  fixedness, 
on  one  object.  Moody,  fixed  are  all  hearts:  tranquil  is  no 
heart, — if  it  be  not  that  of  the  white  charger,  who  paws  there, 
with  arched  neck,  composedly  champing  his  bit;  as  if  no 
World,  with  its  Dynasties  and  Eras,  were  now  rushing  down. 
The  drizzly  day  bends  westward ;  the  cry  is  still :  "  To  Ver- 
sailles!" 

Nay  now,  borne  from  afar,  come  quite  sinister  cries ; 
hoarse,  reverberating  in  long-drawn  hollow  murmurs,  with 
syllables  too  like  those  of  "  Lanterne!"  Or  else,  irregular 
Sansculottism  may  be  marching  off,  of  itself;  with  pikes,  nay 
with  cannon.  The  inflexible  Scipio  does  at  length,  by  aide- 
de-camp,  ask  of  the  Municipals :  Whether  or  not  he  may  go  ? 
A  Letter  is  handed  out  to  him,  over  armed  heads ;  sixty  thou- 
sand faces  flash  fixedly  on  his,  there  is  stillness  and  no  bosom 
breathes,  till  he  have  read.  By  Heaven,  he  grows  suddenly 
pale !  Do  the  Municipals  permit  ?  "  Permit  and  even  order," 
— since  he  can  no  other.  Clangor  of  approval  rends  the  welkin. 
To  your  ranks,  then ;    let  us  march ! 

It  is,  as  we  compute,  towards  three  in  the  afternoon.  In- 
dignant National  Guards  may  dine  for  once  from  their  haver- 
sack :  dined  or  undincd,  they  march  with  one  heart.  Paris 
flings-up  her  windows,  "  claps  hands,"  as  the  Avengers,  with 
their  shrilling  drums  and  shalms  tramp  by ;  she  will  then  sit 
pensive,  apprehensive,  and  pass  rather  a  sleepless  night. /»  On 
the  white  charger,  Lafayette,  in  the  slowest  possible  manner, 
going  and  coming,  and  eloquently  haranguing  among  the 
ranks,  rolls  onward  with  his  thirty  thousand.  Saint-Antoine, 
with  pike  and  cannon,  has  preceded  him ;  a  mixed  multitude, 
of  all  and  of  no  arms,  hovers  on  his  flanks  and  skirts ;  the 
country  once  more  pauses  agape :  Paris  marche  sur  nous. 

hDeux  Amis,  iii.  165. 


2  24  CARLYLE  [1789 


Chapter  VI.— To  Versailles. 

For,  indeed,  about  this  same  moment,  Maillard  has  haUed  his 
draggled  Menads  on  the  last  hill-top ;  and  now  Versailles,  and 
the  Chateau  of  Versailles,  and  far  and  wide  the  inheritance  of 
Royalty  opens  to  the  wondering  eye.  From  far  on  the  right, 
over  Marly  and  Saint-Germain-en-Laye ;  round  towards  Ram- 
bouillet,  on  the.left:  beautiful  all;  softly  embosomed;  as  if  in 
sadness,  in  the  dim  moist  weather !  And  near  before  us  is  Ver- 
sailles, New  and  Old ;  with  that  broad  frondent  Avenue  de 
Versailles  between, — stately-frondent,  broad,  three  hundred 
feet  as  men  reckon,  with  its  four  Rows  of  Elms ;  and  then  the 
Chateau  de  Versailles,  ending  in  royal  Parks  and  Pleasances, 
gleaming  Lakelets,  Arbors,  Labyrinths,  the  Menagerie,  and 
Great  and  Little  Trianon.  High-towered  dwellings,  leafy 
pleasant  places ;  where  the  gods  of  this  lower  world  abide : 
whence,  nevertheless,  black  Care  cannot  be  excluded ;  whither 
Menadic  Hunger  is  even  now  advancing,  armed  with  pike- 
thyrsi  ! 

Yes,  yonder,  Mesdames,  where  our  straight  frondent  Avenue, 
joined,  as  you  note,  by  Two  frondent  brother  Avenues  from 
this  hand  and  from  that,  spreads  out  into  Place  Royal  and 
Palace  Forecourt, — yonder  is  the  Salle  dcs  Menus.  Yonder  an 
august  Assembly  sits  regenerating  France.  Forecourt,  Grand 
Court,  Court  of  Marble,  Court  narrowing  into  Court  you  may 
discern  next,  or  fancy:  on  the  extreme  verge  of  which  that 
glass-dome,  visibly  glittering  like  a  star  of  hope,  is  the — Qiil- 
de-Boeuf!  Yonder,  or  nowhere  in  the  world,  is  bread  baked 
for  us.  But,  O  Mesdames,  were  not  one  thing  good :  That  our 
cannons,  with  Demoiselle  Theroigne  and  all  show  of  war,  be 
put  to  the  rear?  Submission  beseems  petitioners  of  a  National 
Assembly ;  we  are  strangers  in  Versailles, — whence,  too  au- 
dibly, there  comes  even  now  a  sound  as  of  tocsin  and  gencrale! 
Also  to  put  on,  if  possible,  a  cheerful  countenance,  hiding  our 
sorrows  ;  and  even  to  sing?  Sorrow,  pitied  of  the  Heavens,  is 
hateful,  suspicious  to  the  Earth. — So  counsels  shifty  Maillard ; 
haranguing  his  Menads,  on  the  heights  near  Versailles.^ 

Cunning  Maillard's  dispositions  are  obeyed.  The  draggled 
Insurrectionists  advance  up  the  Avenue,  "  in  three  columns," 

I  See  Hist.  Pari.   iii.  70-117;  Deux  Amis,  iii.    166-177,  &c. 


October  5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  225 

among  the  four  Elm-rows  ;  "  singing  Henri  Quatrc,"  with  what 
melody  they  can  ;  and  shouting  Vive  Ic  Roi.  Versailles,  though 
the  Elm-rows  are  dripping  wet,  crowds  from  both  sides,  with : 
"Vivcnt  nos  Parisiennes,  Our  Paris  ones  forever !  " 

Prickers,  scouts  have  been  out  towards  Paris,  as  the  rumor 
deepened:  whereby  his  Majesty,  gone  to  shoot  in  the  Woods 
of  Meudon,  has  been  happily  discovered,  and  got  home ;  and 
the  gencrale  and  tocsin  set  a-sounding.  The  Bodyguards  are 
already  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  Palace  Grates  ;  and  look  down 
the  Avenue  de  Versailles;  sulky,  in  wet  buckskins.  Flandre 
too  is  there,  repentant  of  the  Opera-Repast.  Also  Dragoons 
dismounted  are  there.  Finally  Major  Lecointre,  and  what  he 
can  gather  of  the  Versailles  National  Guard ; — though  it  is  to 
be  observed,  our  Colonel,  that  same  sleepless  Count  d'Estaing, 
giving  neither  order  nor  ammunition,  has  vanished  most  im- 
properly ;  one  supposes,  into  the  CEil-de-Boeuf.  Red-coated 
Swiss  stand  within  the  Grates,  under  arms.  There  likewise,  in 
their  inner  room,  "  all  the  Ministers,"  Saint-Priest,  Lamenta- 
tion Pompignan  and  the  rest,  are  assembled  with  M.  Necker: 
they  sit  with  him  there ;  blank,  expecting  what  the  hour  will 
bring. 

President  Mounier,  though  he  answered  Mirabeau  with  a 
taut  mieux,  and  affected  to  slight  the  matter,  had  his  own  fore- 
bodings. Surely,  for  these  four  weary  hours  he  has  reclined 
not  on  roses !  The  order  of  the  day  is  getting  forward :  a 
Deputation  to  his  Majesty  seems  proper,  that  it  might  please 
him  to  grant  "  Acceptance  pure  and  simple  "  to  those  Consti- 
tution-Articles of  ours  ;  the  "  mixed  qualified  Acceptance," 
with  its  peradventurcs,  is  satisfactory  to  neither  gods  nor  men. 

So  much  is  clear.  And  yet  there  is  more,  which  no  man 
speaks,  which  all  men  now  vaguely  understand.  Disquietude, 
absence  of  mind  is  on  every  face ;  Members  whisper,  uneasily 
come  and  go :  the  order  of  the  day  is  evidently  not  the  day's 
want.  Till  at  length,  from  the  outer  gates,  is  heard  a  rustling 
and  justling,  shrill  uproar  and  squabbling,  muffled  by  walls ; 
which  testifies  that  the  hour  is  come!  Rushing  and  crushing 
one  hears  now ;  then  enter  Usher  Maillard,  with  a  Deputation 
of  Fifteen  muddy  dripping  Women, — having,  by  incredible 
industry,  and  aid  of  all  the  macers,  persuaded  the  rest  to  wait 
out  of  doors.  National  Assembly  shall  now,  therefore,  look  its 
august  task  directly  in  the  face :    regenerative  Constitutional- 

VOL.    1.  — IS 


2  26  CARLYLE  I17S9 

ism  has  an  unregenerate  Sansculottism  bodily  in  front  of  it; 
crying,  "  Bread  !    Bread  !  " 

Shifty  Maillard,  translating  frenzy  into  articulation  ;   repres- 
sive with  the  one  hand,  expostulative  with  the  other,  does  his 
best ;  and  really,  though  not  bred  to  public  speaking,  manages 
rather  well : — In  the  present  dreadful  rarity  of  grains,  a  Depu- 
tation of  Female  Citizens  has,  as  the  august  Assembly  can  dis- 
cern, come  out  from  Paris  to  petition.    Plots  of  Aristocrats  are 
too  evident  in  the  matter;    for  example,  one  miller  has  been  ; 
bribed  "  by  a  bank-note  of  200  livres  "  not  to  grind, — name  un-  I 
known  to  the  Usher,  but  fact  provable,  at  least  indubitable. 
Further,  it  seems,  the  National  Cockade  has  been  trampled  on ; 
also  there  are  Black  Cockades,  or  were.    All  which  things  will 
not  an  august  National  Assembly,  the  hope  of  France,  take  : 
into  its  wise  immediate  consideration  ?  J 

And  Menadic  Hunger,  irrepressible,  crying  "  Black  Cock- 
ades," crying  "  Bread,  Bread,"  adds,  after  such  fashion :  Will 
it  not? — Yes,  Messieurs,  if  a  Deputation  to  his  Majesty,  for 
the  "  Acceptance  pure  and  simple,"  seemed  proper, — how 
much  more  now,  for  "  the  afflicting  situation  of  Paris  ;  "  for  the 
calming  of  this  effervescence !  President  Mounier,  with  a 
speedy  Deputation,  among  whom  we  notice  the  respectable 
figure  of  Doctor  Guillotin,  gets  himself  forward  on  march. 
Vice-President  shall  continue  the  order  of  the  day ;  Usher 
Maillard  shall  stay  by  him  to  repress  the  women.  It  is  four 
o'clock,  of  the  miserablest  afternoon,  when  Mounier  steps  out. 

O  experienced  Mounier,  what  an  afternoon ;  the  last  of  thy 
political  existence !  Better  had  it  been  to  "  fall  suddenly  un- 
well," while  it  was  yet  time.  For,  behold,  the  Esplanade,  over 
all  its  spacious  expanse,  is  covered  with  groups  of  squalid  drip- 
ping Women  ;  of  lankhaired  male  Rascality,  armed  with  axes,) 
rusty  pikes,  old  muskets,  iron-shod  clubs  (batons  fcrrcs,  which 
end  in  knives  or  swordblades,  a  kind  of  extempore  billhook) ; — 
looking  nothing  but  hungry  revolt.  The  rain  pours :  Gardes- 
du-Corps  go  caracoling  through  the  groups  "  amid  hisses ;  " 
irritating  and  agitating  what  is  but  dispersed  here  to  reunite 
there. 

Innumerable  squalid  women  beleaguer  the  President  and 
Deputation  ;  insist  on  going  with  him :  has  not  his  Majesty 
himself,  looking  from  the  window,  sent  out  to  ask,  What  we 
wanted  ?    "  Bread,  and  speech  with  the  King  {Du  pain,  et  parlcr 


October  5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  227 

an  Roi),"  that  was  the  answer.  Twelve  women  are  clamorously 
added  to  the  Deputation ;  and  march  with  it,  across  the  Es- 
planade ;  through  dissipated  groups,  caracoling  Bodyguards 
and  the  pouring  rain. 

President  Mounier,  unexpectedly  augmented  by  Twelve 
women,  copiously  escorted  by  Hunger  and  Rascality,  is  him- 
self mistaken  for  a  group :  himself  and  his  Women  are  dis- 
persed by  caracolers ;  rally  again  with  difficulty,  among  the 
mud.a  Finally  the  Grates  are  opened ;  the  Deputation  gets 
access,  with  the  Twelve  women  too  in  it ;  of  which  latter,  Five 
shall  even  see  the  face  of  his  Majesty.  Let  wet  Menadism,  in 
the  best  spirits  it  can,  expect  their  return. 


Chapter  VII At  Versailles. 

But  already  Pallas  Athene  (in  the  shape  of  Demoiselle 
Theroigne)  is  busy  with  Flandre  and  the  dismounted  Dra- 
goons. She,  and  such  women  as  are  fittest,  go  through  the 
ranks;  speak  with  an  earnest  jocosity;  clasp  rough  troopers 
to  their  patriot  bosom,  crush  down  spontoons  and  musketoons 
with  soft  arms :  can  a  man,  that  were  worthy  of  the  name  of 
man,  attack  famishing  patriot  women? 

One  reads  that  Theroigne  had  bags  of  money,  which  she 
distributed  over  Flandre: — furnished  by  whom?     Alas,  with 
money-bags  one  seldom  sits  on  insurrectionary  cannon.     Ca-i 
lumnious  Royalism !    Theroigne  had  only  the  limited  earnings' 
of  her  profession  of  unfortunate-female;  money  she  had  not,;  V 
but  brown  locks,  the  figure  of  a  Heathen  Goddess  and  an  eIo-| 
quent  tongue  and  heart. 

Meanwhile  Saint-Antoine,  in  groups  and  troops,  is  continu- 
ally arriving ;  wetted,  sulky ;  with  pikes  and  impromptu  bill- 
hooks :  driven  thus  far  by  popular  fixed  idea.  So  many  hirsute 
figures  driven  hither,  in  that  manner:  figures  that  have  come 
to  do  they  know  not  what ;  figures  that  have  come  to  see  it 
done!  Distinguished  among  all  figures,  who  is  this,  of  gaunt 
stature,  with  leaden  breastplate,  though  a  small  one  -b  bushy 
in  red  grizzled  locks  ;  nay  with  long  tile-heard  ?  It  is  Jourdan, 
unjust  dealer  in  mules ;    a  dealer  no  longer,  but  a  Painter's 

a  Mounier,  Expose  Justificatif  (cited  in  Deux  Amis,  iii.  185). 
b  See  Weber,  ii.   185-231. 


228  CARLYLE  [1789 

Model,  playing  truant  this  day.  From  the  necessities  of  Art 
comes  his  long  tile-beard ;  whence  his  leaden  breastplate  (un- 
less indeed  he  were  some  Hawker  licensed  by  leaden  badge) 
may  have  come,  will  perhaps  remain  forever  a  Historical  Prob- 
lem. Another  Saul  among  the  people  we  discern :  "  Pere 
Adam,  Father  Adam,"  as  the  groups  name  him ;  to  us  better 
known  as  bull-voiced  Marquis  Saint-Huruge ;  hero  of  the 
Veto;  a  man  that  has  had  losses,  and  deserved  them.  The  tall 
Marquis,  emitted  some  days  ago  from  limbo,  looks  peripatetic- 
ally  on  this  scene  from  under  his  umbrella,  not  without  inter- 
est. All  which  persons  and  things,  hurled  together  as  we  see ; 
Pallas  Athene,  busy  with  Flandre ;  patriotic  Versailles  Na- 
tional Guards,  short  of  ammunition,  and  deserted  by  D'Estaing 
their  Colonel,  and  commanded  by  Lecointre  their  Major ;  then 
caracoling  Bodyguards,  sour,  dispirited,  with  their  buckskins 
wet ;  and  finally  this  flowing  sea  of  indignant  Squalor, — may 
they  not  give  rise  to  occurrences? 

Behold,  however,  the  Twelve  She-deputies  return  from  the 
Chateau.  Without  President  Mounier,  indeed ;  but  radiant 
with  joy,  shouting  "  Life  to  the  King  and  his  House."  Appar- 
ently the  news  are  good,  Mesdames  ?  News  of  the  best !  Five 
of  us  were  admitted  to  the  internal  splendors,  to  the  Royal  Pres- 
ence. This  slim  damsel,  "  Louison  Chabray,  worker  in  sculp- 
ture, aged  only  seventeen,"  as  being  of  the  best  looks  and  ad- 
dress, her  we  appointed  speaker.  On  whom,  and  indeed  on  all 
of  us,  his  Majesty  looked  nothing  but  graciousness.  Nay  when 
Louison,  addressing  him,  was  like  to  faint,  he  took  her  in  his 
royal  arms,  and  said  gallantly,  "  It  was  well  worth  while  (EUe 
en  valiit  bicn  la  peine)."  Consider,  O  Women,  what  a  King! 
His  words  were  of  comfort,  and  that  only :  there  shall  be  pro- 
vision sent  to  Paris,  if  provision  is  in  the  world ;  grains  shall 
circulate  free  as  air ;  millers  shall  grind,  or  do  worse,  while  their 
mill-stones  endure  ;  and  nothing  be  left  wrong  which  a  Restorer 
of  French  Liberty  can  right. 

Good  news  these ;  but,  to  wet  Menads,  ail-too  incredible ! 
There  seems  no  proof,  then !  Words  of  comfort, — they  are 
words  only ;  which  will  feed  nothing.  O  miserable  People, 
betrayed  by  Aristocrats,  who  corrupt  thy  very  messengers !  In 
his  royal  arms.  Mademoiselle  Louison?  In  his  arms?  Thou 
shameless  minx,  worthy  of  a  name — that  shall  be  nameless ! 
Yes,  thy  skin  is  soft :   ours  is  rough  with  hardship ;   and  well 


October  5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  229 

wetted,  waiting  here  in  the  rain.  No  children  hast  thou  hungry 
at  home  ;  only  alabaster  dolls,  that  weep  not !  The  traitress ! 
To  the  Lanterne  ! — And  so  poor  Louison  Chabray,  no  assevera- 
tion or  shrieks  availing  her,  fair  slim  damsel,  late  in  the  arms 
of  Royalty,  has  a  garter  round  her  neck,  and  furibund  Amazons 
at  each  end ;  is  about  to  perish  so, — when  two  Bodyguards 
gallop  up,  indignantly  dissipating ;  and  rescue  her.  The  mis- 
credited  Twelve  hasten  back  to  the  Chateau,  for  an  "  answer 
in  writing." 

Nay,  behold,  a  new  flight  of  Menads,  with  "  M.  Brunout 
Bastille  Volunteer,"  as  impressed-commandant,  at  the  head  of 
it.  These  also  will  advance  to  the  Grate  of  the  Grand  Court, 
and  see  what  is  toward.  Human  patience,  in  wet  buckskins, 
has  its  limits.  Bodyguard  Lieutenant  M.  de  Savonnieres  for 
one  moment  lets  his  temper,  long  provoked,  long  pent,  give 
way.  He  not  only  dissipates  these  latter  Menads ;  but  cara- 
coles and  cuts,  or  indignantly  flourishes,  at  M.  Brunout,  the 
impressed-commandant ;  and,  finding  great  relief  in  it,  even 
chases  him ;  Brunout  flying  nimbly,  though  in  a  pirouette 
manner,  and  now  with  sword  also  drawn.  At  which  sight  of 
wrath  and  victory,  two  other  Bodyguards  (for  wrath  is  con- 
tagious, and  to  pent  Bodyguards  is  so  solacing)  do  likewise 
give  way ;  give  chase,  with  brandished  sabre,  and  in  the  air 
make  horrid  circles.  So  that  poor  Brunout  has  nothing  for  it 
but  to  retreat  with  accelerated  nimbleness,  through  rank  after 
rank ;  Parthian-like,  fencing  as  he  flies ;  above  all,  shouting 
lustily,  "  On  noits  laisse  assassincr,  They  are  getting  us  assas- 
sinated !  " 

Shameful !  Three  against  one !  Growls  come  from  the 
Lecointrian  ranks ;  bellowings, — lastly  shots.  Savonnieres' 
arm  is  raised  to  strike :  the  bullet  of  a  Lecointrian  musket 
shatters  it ;  the  brandished  sabre  jingles  down  harmless. 
Brunout  has  escaped,  this  duel  well  ended :  but  the  wild  howl 
of  war  is  everywhere  beginning  to  pipe  ! 

The  Amazons  recoil ;  Saint-Antoine  has  its  cannon  pointed 
(full  of  grapeshot) ;  thrice  applies  the  lit  flambeau ;  which 
thrice  refuses  to  catch, — the  touchholes  are  so  wetted ;  and 
voices  cry :  "  Arreted,  il  n'est  pas  temps  encore,  Stop,  it  is  not  yet 
time !  "c  Messieurs  of  the  Garde-du-Corps,  yc  had  orders  not 
to  fire  ;  nevertheless  two  of  you  limp  dismounted,  and  one  war- 

c  Deux  Amis,  ii.   192-201. 


230  CARLYLE  [1789 

horse  lies  slain.  Were  it  not  well  to  draw  back  out  of  shot- 
range  ;  finally  to  file  ofif, — into  the  interior?  If  in  so  filing  off, 
there  did  a  musketoon  or  two  discharge  itself  at  these  armed 
shopkeepers,  hooting  and  crowing,  could  man  wonder?  Drag- 
gled are  your  white  cockades  of  an  enormous  size ;  would  to 
Heaven  they  were  got  exchanged  for  tricolor  ones !  Your 
buckskins  are  wet,  your  hearts  heavy.    Go,  and  return  not ! 

The  Bodyguards  file  off,  as  we  hint ;  giving  and  receiving 
shots ;  drawing  no  life-blood  ;  leaving  boundless  indignation. 
Some  three  times  in  the  thickening  dusk,  a  glimpse  of  them  is 
seen,  at  this  or  the  other  Portal :  saluted  always  with  execra- 
tions, with  the  whew  of  lead.  Let  but  a  Bodyguard  show  face, 
he  is  hunted  by  Rascality  ; — for  instance,  poor  "  M.  de  Mouche- 
ton  of  the  Scotch  Company,"  owner  of  the  slain  war-horse ; 
and  has  to  be  smuggled  off  by  Versailles  Captains.  Or  rusty 
firelocks  belch  after  him,  shivering  asunder  his — hat.  In  the 
end,  by  superior  Order,  the  Bodyguards,  all  but  the  few  on 
immediate  duty,  disappear ;  or  as  it  were  abscond ;  and  march, 
under  cloud  of  night,  to  Rambouillet.of 

We  remark  also  that  the  Versaillese  have  now  got  ammuni- 
tion :  all  afternoon,  the  official  Person  could  find  none ;  till, 
in  these  so  critical  moments,  a  patriotic  Sublieutenant  set  a 
pistol  to  his  ear,  and  would  thank  him  to  find  some, — which 
he  thereupon  succeeded  in  doing.  Likewise  that  Flandre,  dis- 
armed by  Pallas  Athene,  says  openly,  it  will  not  fight  with  citi- 
zens ;  and  for  token  of  peace  has  exchanged  cartridges  with 
the  Versaillese. 

Sansculottism  is  now  among  mere  friends  ;  and  can  "  cir- 
culate freely ;  "  indignant  at  Bodyguards  ; — complaining  also 
considerably  of  hunger. 


Chapter  VIII.— The  Equal  Diet. 

But  why  lingers  Mounier  ;  returns  not  with  his  Deputation? 
It  is  six,  it  is  seven  o'clock ;  and  still  no  Mounier,  no  Accept- 
ance pure  and  simple.  -^ 

And,  behold,  the  dripping  Menads,  not  now  in  deputation 
but  in  mass,  have  penetrated  into  the  Assembly :  to  the  shame- 
fulest  interruption  of  public  speaking  and  order  of  the  day. 

d  Weber,  ubi  supra. 


October  5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  23! 

Neither  Maillard  nor  Vice-President  can  restrain  them,  except 
within  wide  limits ;  not  even,  except  for  minutes,  can  the  Hon- 
voice  of  Mirabeau,  though  they  applaud  it :  but  ever  and  anon 
they  break-in  upon  the  regeneration  of  France  with  cries  of: 
"  Bread ;  not  so  much  discoursing !  Dii  pain;  pas  taut  de  longs 
discours! " — So  insensible  were  these  poor  creatures  to  bursts 
of  parliamentary  eloquence ! 

One  learns  also  that  the  royal  Carriages  are  getting  yoked, 
as  if  for  Metz.  Carriages,  royal  or  not,  have  verily  showed 
themselves  at  the  back  Gates.  They  even  produced,  or  quoted, 
a  written  order  from  our  Versailles  Municipality, — which  is  a 
Monarchic  not  a  Democratic  one.  However,  Versailles 
Patrols  drove  them  in  again ;  as  the  vigilant  Lecointre  had 
strictly  charged  them  to  do. 

A  busy  man,  truly,  is  Major  Lecointre,  in  these  hours.  For 
Colonel  d'Estaing  loiters  invisible  in  the  CEil-de-Boeuf ;  in- 
visible, or  still  more  questionably  visible  for  instants :  then  also 
a  too  loyal  Municipality  requires  supervision :  no  order,  civil 
or  military,  taken  about  any  of  these  thousand  things !  Le- 
cointre is  at  the  Versailles  Townhall :  he  is  at  the  Grate  of  the 
Grand  Court ;  communing  with  Swiss  and  Bodyguards.  He 
is  in  the  ranks  of  Flandre ;  he  is  here,  he  is  there :  studious  to 
prevent  bloodshed ;  to  prevent  the  Royal  Family  from  flying 
to  Metz  ;  the  Menads  from  plundering  Versailles. 

At  the  fall  of  night,  we  behold  him  advance  to  those  armed 
groups  of  Saint-Antoine,  hovering  ail-too  grim  near  the  Salle 
des  Menus.  The  receive  him  in  a  half-circle ;  twelve  speakers 
behind  cannons  with  lighted  torches  in  hand,  the  cannon- 
mouths  toivards  Lecointre:  a  picture  for  Salvator!  He  asks, 
in  temperate  but  courageous  language :  What  they,  by  this 
their  journey  to  Versailles,  do  specially  want  ?  The  twelve 
speakers  reply,  in  few  words  inclusive  of  much :  "  Bread,  and 
the  end  of  these  brabbles  ;  Dn  pain,  ct  la  Hn  des  affaires.'"  When 
the  affairs  will  end,  no  Major  Lecointre,  nor  no  mortal,  can 
say;  but  as  to  bread,  he  inquires,  How  many  arc  you? — learns 
that  they  are  six  hundred,  that  a  loaf  each  will  suffice  ;  and  rides 
off  to  the  Municipality  to  get  six  hundred  loaves. 

Which  loaves,  however,  a  Municipality  of  Monarchic  temper 
will  not  give.  It  will  give  two  tons  of  rice  rather, — could  you 
but  know  whether  it  should  be  boiled  or  raw.  Nay  when  this 
too  is  accepted,  the  Municipals  have  disappeared ; — ducked 


232  CARLYLE  [1789 

under,  as  the  Six-and-twenty  Long-gowned  of  Paris  did ;  and, 
leaving  not  the  smallest  vestige  of  rice,  in  the  boiled  or  raw 
state,  they  there  vanish  from  History ! 

Rice  comes  not ;  one's  hope  of  food  is  balked ;  even  one's 
hope  of  vengeance:  is  not  M.  de  Moucheton  of  the  Scotch 
Company,  as  we  said,  deceitfully  smuggled  ofif?  Failing  all 
which,  behold  only  M.  de  Moucheton's  slain  war-horse,  lying 
on  the  Esplanade  there!  Saint-Antoine,  balked,  esurient, 
pounces  on  the  slain  war-horse ;  flays  it ;  roasts  it,  with  such 
fuel,  of  paling,  gates,  portable  timber  as  can  be  come  at,  not 
without  shouting;  and,  after  the  manner  of  ancient  Greek 
Heroes,  they  lifted  their  hands  to  the  daintily  readied  repast; 
such  as  it  might  be.^  Other  Rascality  prowls  discursive  ;  seek- 
ing what  it  may  devour.  Flandre  will  retire  to  its  barracks ; 
Lecointre  also  with  his  Versaillese, — all  but  the  vigilant 
Patrols,  charged  to  be  doubly  vigilant. 

So  sink  the  shadows  of  night,  blustering,  rainy ;  and  all 
paths  grow  dark.  Strangest  Night  ever  seen  in  these  regions, 
— perhaps  since  the  Bartholomew  Night,  when  Versailles,  as 
Bassompierre  writes  of  it,  was  a  chetif  chateau.  O  for  the  Lyre 
of  some  Orpheus,  to  constrain,  with  touch  of  melodious  strings, 
these  mad  masses  into  Order !  For  here  all  seems  fallen 
asunder,  in  wide-yawning  dislocation.  The  highest,  as  in 
down-rushing  of  a  World,  is  come  in  contact  with  the  lowest : 
the  Rascality  of  France  beleaguering  the  Royalty  of  France ; 
"  ironshod  batons  "  lifted  round  the  diadem,  not  to  guard  it ! 
With  denunciations  of  bloodthirsty  Anti-National  Body- 
guards, are  heard  dark  growlings  against  a  Queenly  Name. 

The  Court  sits  tremulous,  powerless ;  varies  with  the  vary- 
ing temper  of  the  Esplanade,  with  the  varying  color  of  the 
rumors  from  Paris.  Thick-coming  rumors ;  now  of  peace, 
now  of  war.  Necker  and  all  the  Ministers  consult ;  with  a 
blank  issue.  The  CEil-de-Boeuf  is  one  tempest  of  whispers : — 
We  will  fly  to  Metz ;  we  will  not  fly.  The  royal  Carriages 
again  attempt  egress, — though  for  trial  merely  ;  they  are  again 
driven  in  by  Lecointre's  Patrols.  In  six  hours  nothing  has 
been  resolved  on  ;  not  even  the  Acceptance  pure  and  simple. 

In  six  hours?  Alas,  he  who,  in  such  circumstances,  cannot 
resolve  in  six  minutes,  may  give  up  the  enterprise :  him  Fate 
has  already  resolved  for.     And  Menadism,  meanwhile,  and 

e  Weber ;  Deux-  Amis,  &c. 


October  5th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  233 

Sansculottism  takes  counsel  with  the  National  Assembly ; 
grows  more  and  more  tumultuous  there.  Mounier  returns 
not ;  Authority  nowhere  shows  itself :  the  Authority  of  France 
lies,  for  the  present,  with  Lecointre  and  Usher  Maillard. — 
This  then  is  the  abomination  of  desolation ;  come  suddenly, 
though  long  foreshadowed  as  inevitable !  For,  to  the  blind,  all 
things  are  sudden.  Misery  which,  through  long  ages,  had  no 
spokesman,  no  helper,  will  now  be  its  own  helper  and  speak 
for  itself.  The  dialect,  one  of  the  rudest,  is,  what  it  could  be, 
this. 

At  eight  o'clock  there  returns  to  our  Assembly  not  the  Depu- 
tation ;  but  Doctor  Guillotin  announcing  that  it  will  return ; 
also  that  there  is  hope  of  the  Acceptance  pure  and  simple.  He 
himself  has  brought  a  Royal  Letter,  authorizing  and  command- 
ing the  freest  "  circulation  of  grains."  Which  Royal  Letter 
Menadism  with  its  whole  heart  applauds.  Conformably  to 
which  the  Assembly  forthwith  passes  a  Decree ;  also  received 
with  rapturous  Menadic  plaudits : — Only  could  not  an  august 
Assembly  contrive  farther  to  "  fix  the  price  of  bread  at  eight 
sous  the  half-quartern  ;  butchers'-meat  at  six  sous  the  pound  ;  " 
which  seem  fair  rates  ?  Such  motion  do  "  a  multitude  of  men 
and  women,"  irrepressible  by  Usher  Maillard,  now  make  ;  does 
an  august  Assembly  hear  made.  Usher  Maillard  himself  is 
not  always  perfectly  measured  in  speech ;  but  if  rebuked,  he 
can  justly  excuse  himself  by  the  peculiarity  of  the  circum- 
stances.^ 

But  finally,  this  Decree  well  passed,  and  the  disorder  con- 
tinuing ;  and  Members  melting  away,  and  no  President 
Mounier  returning, — what  can  the  Vice-President  do  but  also 
melt  away?  The  Assembly  melts,  under  such  pressure,  into 
deliquium  ;  or,  as  it  is  of^cially  called,  adjourns.  Maillard  is 
despatched  to  Paris,  with  the  "  Decree  concerning  Grains  "  in 
his  pocket;  he  and  some  women,  in  carriages  belonging  to 
the  King.  Thitherward  slim  Louison  Chabray  has  already  set 
forth,  with  that  "  written  answer "  which  the  Twelve  She- 
deputies  returned  in  to  seek.  Slim  sylph,  she  has  set  forth, 
through  the  black  muddy  country:  she  has  much  to  tell,  her 
poor  nerves  so  flurried ;  and  travels,  as  indeed  to-day  on  this 
road  all  persons  do,  with  extreme  slowness.  President 
Mounier  has  not  come,  nor  tlic  Acceptance  pure  and  simple ; 
f  Moniteur  (in  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  105). 


234  CARLYLE  [1789 

though  six  hours  with  their  events  have  come  ;  though  courier 
on  courier  reports  that  Lafayette  is  coming.  Coming,  with  war 
or  with  peace?  It  is  time  that  the  Chateau  also  should  de- 
termine on  one  thing  or  another ;  that  the  Chateau  also  should 
show  itself  alive,  if  it  would  continue  living! 

Victorious,  joyful  after  such  delay,  Mounier  does  arrive  at 
last,  and  the  hard-earned  Acceptance  with  him ;  which  now, 
alas,  is  of  small  value.  Fancy  Mounier's  surprise  to  find  his 
Senate,  whom  he  hoped  to  charm  by  the  Acceptance  pure  and 
simple,  all  gone ;  and  in  its  stead  a  Senate  of  Menads !  For 
as  Erasmus's  Ape  mimicked,  say  with  wooden  splint,  Erasmus 
shaving,  so  do  these  Amazons  hold,  in  mock  majesty,  some 
confused  parody  of  National  Assembly.  They  make  motions  ; 
deliver  speeches  ;  pass  enactments  ;  productive  at  least  of  loud 
laughter.  All  galleries  and  benches  are  filled  ;  a  Strong  Dame 
of  the  Market  is  in  Mounier's  Chair.  Not  without  difficulty, 
Mounier,  by  aid  of  macers  and  persuasive  speaking,  makes  his 
way  to  the  Female-President ;  the  Strong  Dame,  before  ab- 
dicating, signifies  that,  for  one  thing,  she  and  indeed  her  whole 
senate  male  and  female  (for  what  was  one  roasted  war-horse 
among  so  many  ?)  are  suffering  very  considerably  from  hunger. 

Experienced  Mounier,  in  these  circumstances,  takes  a  two- 
fold resolution  :  To  reconvoke  his  Assembly  Members  by  sound 
of  drum  ;  also  to  procure  a  supply  of  food.  Swift  messengers 
fly,  to  all  bakers,  cooks,  pastrycooks,  vintners,  restorers  ;  drums 
beat,  accompanied  with  shrill  vocal  proclamation,  through  all 
streets.  They  come :  the  Assembly  Members  come ;  what  is 
still  better,  the  provisions  come.  On  tray  and  barrow  come 
these  latter ;  loaves,  wine,  great  store  of  sausages.  The  nour- 
ishing baskets  circulate  harmoniously  along  the  benches ;  nor, 
according  to  the  Father  of  Epics,  did  any  soul  lack  a  fair  share 
of  victual  {BalTO<i  itar}<;,  an  equal  diet)  ;  highly  desirable  at 
moment.^ 

Gradually  some  hundred  or  so  of  Assembly  Members  get 
edged  in,  Menadism  making  way  a  little,  round  Mounier's 
chair;  listen  to  the  Acceptance  pure  and  simple;  and  begin, 
what  is  the  order  of  the  night,  "  discussion  of  the  Penal  Code." 
All  benches  are  crowded ;  in  the  dusky  galleries,  duskier  with 
unwashed  heads,  is  a  strange  **  coruscation," — of  impromptu 

g  Deux  Amis,  iii.  208. 


October  5th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  235 

billhooks./i  It  is  exactly  five  months  this  day  since  these  same 
galleries  were  filled  with  high-plumed  jewelled  Beauty,  raining 
bright  influences  ;  and  now  ?  To  such  length  have  we  got  in 
receneratingf  France.  INIethinks  the  travail-throes  are  of  the 
sharpest ! — Menadism  will  not  be  restrained  from  occasional- 
remarks ;  asks,  "What  is  the  use  of  Penal  Code?  The  thing 
we  want  is  Bread."  Mirabeau  turns  round  with  lion-voiced 
rebuke ;  Menadism  applauds  him  ;  but  recommences.  *" 

Thus  they,  chewing  tough  sausages,  discussing  the  Penal 
Code,  make  night  hideous.  What  the  issue  will  be  ?  Lafayette 
with  his  thirty  thousand  must  arrive  first :  him,  who  cannot  now 
be  distant,  all  men  expect,  as  the  messenger  of  Destiny. 

Chapter  IX. — Lafayette. 

Towards  midnight  lights  flare  on  the  hill ;  Lafayette's  lights !  - 
The  roll  of  his  drums  comes  up  the  Avenue  de  Versailles.    With 
peace,  or  with  war  ?     Patience,  friends !     With  neither.      La- 
fayette is  come,  but  not  yet  the  catastrophe. 

He  has  halted  and  harangued  so  often,  on  the  march ;  spent 
nine  hours  on  four  leagues  of  road.  At  Montreuil,  close  on 
Versailles,  the  whole  Host  had  to  pause ;  and,  with  uplifted 
right  hand,  in  the  murk  of  Night,  to  these  pouring  skies,  swear 
solemnly  to  respect  the  King's  Dwelling ;  to  be  faithful  to  King 
and  National  Assembly.  Rage  is  driven  down  out  of  sight,  by 
the  laggard  march  ;  the  thirst  of  vengeance  slaked  in  weariness 
and  soaking  clothes.  Flandre  is  again  drawn  out  under  arms  ; 
but  Flandre,  grown  so  patriotic,  now  needs  no  "  exterminat- 
ing." The  wayworn  Battalions  halt  in  the  Avenue  :  they  have, 
for  the  present,  no  wish  so  pressing  as  that  of  shelter  and  rest. 

Anxious  sits  President  Mounier ;  anxious  the  Chateau. 
There  is  a  message  coming  from  the  Chateau,  that  M.  Mounier 
would  please  to  return  thither  with  a  fresh  Deputation,  swiftly ; 
and  so  at  least  unite  our  two  anxieties.  Anxious  Mounier  docs 
of  himself  send,  meanwhile,  to  apprise  the  General  that  his 
Majesty  has  been  so  gracious  as  to  grant  us  the  Acceptance 
pure  and  simple.  The  General,  with  a  small  advance  colunm, 
makes  answer  in  passing ;  speaks  vaguely  some  smooth  words 
to  the  National  President, — glances,  only  with  the  eye,  at  that 
so  mixtiform  National  Assembly ;  then  fares  forward  towards 
hCourrier  dc  Provence  (Mirabeau's  Newspaper),  No.  50,  p.  19. 


236  CARLYLE  [1789 

the  Chateau.  There  are  with  him  two  Paris  Municipals ;  they 
were  chosen  from  the  Three  Hundred  for  that  errand.  He 
gets  admittance  through  the  locked  and  padlocked  Grates, 
through  sentries  and  ushers,  to  the  Royal  Halls.  J 

The  Court,  male  and  female,  crowds  on  his  passage,  to  read 
their  doom  on  his  face ;  which  exhibits,  say  Historians,  a  mixt- 
ure "  of  sorrow,  of  fervor  and  valor,"  singular  to  behold.i  The 
King,  with  Monsieur,  with  Ministers  and  Marshals,  is  waiting 
to  receive  him  :  He  "  is  come,"  in  his  highflown  chivalrous  way, 
"  to  ofTer  his  head  for  the  safety  of  his  Majesty's."  The  two 
Municipals  state  the  wish  of  Paris :  four  things,  of  quite  pacific 
tenor.  First,  that  the  honor  of  guarding  his  sacred  person  be 
conferred  on  patriot  National  Guards  ; — say,  the  Centre  Grena- 
diers, who  as  Gardes  Franqaises  were  wont  to  have  that  privi- 
lege. Second,  that  provisions  be  got,  if  possible.  Third,  that 
the  Prisons,  all  crowded  with  political  delinquents,  may  have 
judges  sent  them.  Fourth,  that  it  zvould  please  his  Majesty  to 
come  and  live  in  Paris.  To  all  which  four  wishes,  except  the 
fourth,  his  Majesty  answers  readily.  Yes  ;  or  indeed  may  almost 
say  that  he  has  already  answered  it.  To  the  fourth  he  can  an- 
swer only.  Yes  or  No ;  would  so  gladly  answer.  Yes  and  No ! — 
But,  in  any  case,  are  not  their  dispositions,  thank  Heaven,  so 
entirely  pacific  ?  There  is  time  for  deliberation.  The  brunt  of 
the  danger  seems  past ! 

Lafayette  and  D'Estaing  settle  the  watches ;  Centre  Grena-"^ 
diers  are  to  take  the  Guard-room  they  of  old  occupied  as  Gardes 
Fran^aises ; — for    indeed    the    Gardes-du-Corps,    its    late    ill- 
advised  occupants,  are  gone  mostly  to  Rambouillet.     That  is 
the  order  of  this  night ;  sufficient  for  the  night  is  the  evil  thereof.  ; 
Whereupon  Lafayette  and  the  two  Municipals,  with  highflown/ 
chivalry,  take  their  leave. 

So  brief  has  the  interview  been,  Mounier  and  his  Deputation 
were  not  yet  got  up.  So  brief  and  satisfactory.  A  stone  is 
rolled  from  every  heart.  The  fair  Palace  Dames  publicly  de- 
clare that  this  Lafayette,  detestable  though  he  be,  is  their  saviour 
for  once.  Even  the  ancient  vinaigrous  Tantcs  admit  it ;  the 
King's  Aunts,  ancient  Graillc  and  Sisterhood,  known  to  us  of 
old.  Queen  Marie-Antoinette  has  been  heard  often  say  the 
like.     She  alone,  among  all  women  and  all  men,  wore  a  face  of 

i Metnoirc  dc  M.   Ic  Comte  de  Lally-Tollcndal    (Janvier   1790),  pp. 
161-165. 


Oct.  5th-6th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  237 

courage,  of  lofty  calmness  and  resolve,  this  day.  She  alone 
saw  clearly  what  she  meant  to  do ;  and  Theresa's  Daughter 
dares  do  what  she  means,  were  all  France  threatening  her : 
abide  where  her  children  are,  where  her  husband  is. 

Towards  three  in  the  morning  all  things  are  settled :  the 
watches  set,  the  Centre  Grenadiers  put  into  their  old  Guard- 
room, and  harangued ;  the  Swiss,  and  few  remaining  Body- 
guards harangued.  The  wayworn  Paris  Battalions,  consigned 
to  "  the  hospitality  of  Versailles,"  lie  dormant  in  spare-beds, 
spare-barracks,  coffeehouses,  empty  churches.  A  troop  of 
them,  on  their  way  to  the  Church  of  Saint-Louis,  awoke  poor 
Weber,  dreaming  troublous,  in  the  Rue  Sartory.  Weber  has 
had  his  waistcoat-pocket  full  of  balls  all  day ;  "  two  hundred 
balls,  and  two  pears  of  powder  "!  For  waistcoats  were  waist- 
coats then,  and  had  flaps  down  to  mid-thigh.  So  many  balls 
he  has  had  all  day  ;  but  no  opportunity  of  using  them :  he  turns 
over  now,  execrating  disloyal  bandits ;  swears  a  prayer  or  two, 
and  straight  to  sleep  again. 

Finally  the  National  Assembly  is  harangued ;  which  there- 
upon, on  motion  of  Mirabeau,  discontinues  the  Penal  Code,  and 
dismisses  for  this  night.  Menadism,  Sansculottism  has  cow- 
ered into  guardhouses,  barracks  of  Flandre,  to  the  light  of 
cheerful  fire ;  failing  that,  to  churches,  officehouses,  sentry- 
boxes,  wheresoever  wretchedness  can  find  a  lair.  The 
troublous  Day  has  brawled  itself  to  rest :  no  lives  yet  lost  but 
that  of  one  war-horse.  Insurrectionary  Chaos  lies  slumbering 
round  the  Palace,  like  Ocean  round  a  Diving-bell, — no  crevice 
yet  disclosing  itself. 

Deep  sleep  has  fallen  promiscuously  on  the  high  and  on  the 
low ;  suspending  most  things,  even  wrath  and  famine.  Dark- 
ness covers  the  Earth.  But,  far  on  the  North-east,  Paris  flings- 
up  her  great  yellow  gleam  ;  far  into  the  wet  black  Night.  For 
all  is  illuminated  there,  as  in  the  old  July  Nights ;  the  streets 
deserted,  for  alarm  of  war:  the  Municipals  all  wakeful; 
Patrols  hailing,  with  their  hoarse  Who-goes.  There,  as  we 
discover,  our  poor  slim  Louison  Chabray,  her  poor  nerves  all 
fluttered,  is  arriving  about  this  very  hour.  There  Usher 
Maillard  will  arrive,  about  an  hour  hence,  "  towards  four  in 
the  morning."  They  report,  successively,  to  a  wakeful  Hotcl- 
de-Ville  what  comfort  they  can ;  which  again,  with  early 
dawn,   large   comfortable   Placards   shall    impart   to   all    men. 


238  CARLYLE  [1789 

Lafayette,  in  the  Hotel  de  Noailles,  not  far  from  the  Cha- 
teau, having  now  finished  haranguing,  sits  with  his  Officers 
consuhing:  at  five  o'clock  the  unanimous  best  counsel  is,  that 
a  man  so  tost  and  toiled  for  twenty-four  hours  and  more,  fling 
himself  on  a  bed,  and  seek  some  rest. 

Thus,  then,  has  ended  the  First  Act  of  the  Insurrection 
of  Women.  How  it  will  turn  on  the  morrow?  The  morrow, 
as  always,  is  with  the  Fates !  But  his  Majesty,  one  may 
hope,  will  consent  to  come  honorably  to  Paris ;  at  all  events, 
he  can  visit  Paris.  Anti-National  Bodyguards,  here  and 
elsewhere,  must  take  the  National  Oath;  make  reparation  to 
the  Tricolor ;  Flandre  will  swear.  There  may  be  much  swear- 
ing ;  much  public  speaking  there  will  infallibly  be :  and  so, 
with  harangues  and  vows,  may  the  matter  in  some  handsome 
way  wind  itself  up. 

Or,  alas,  may  it  not  be  all  otherwise,  7/nhandsome ;  the 
consent  not  honorable,  but  extorted,  ignominious?  Boundless 
Chaos  of  Insurrection  presses  slumbering  round  the  Palace, 
like  Ocean  round  a  Diving-bell ;  and  may  penetrate  at  any 
crevice.  Let  but  that  accumulated  insurrectionary  mass  find 
entrance  !  Like  the  infinite  inburst  of  water ;  or  say  rather,  of 
inflammable,  self-igniting  fluid ;  for  example,  "  turpentine-and- 
phosphorus  oil," — fluid   known  to   Spinola   Santerre ! 


Chapter  X. — The  Grand  Entries. 

The  dull  dawn  of  a  new  morning,  drizzly  and  chill,  had 
but  broken  over  Versailles,  w'hen  it  pleased  Destiny  that  a 
Bodyguard  should  look  out  of  the  window,  on  the  right  wing 
of  the  Chateau,  to  see  what  prospect  there  was  in  Heaven 
and  in  Earth.  Rascality  male  and  female  is  prowling  in  view 
of  him.  His  fasting  stomach  is,  with  good  cause,  sour ;  he 
perhaps  cannot  forbear  a  passing  malison  on  them;  least  of 
all  can  he  forbear  answering  such. 

Ill  words  breed  worse:  till  the  w^orst  word  come;  and 
then  the  ill  deed.  Did  the  malcdicent  Bodyguard,  getting  (as 
was  too  inevitable)  better  malediction  than  he  gave,  load  his 
musketoon,  and  threaten  to  fire;  nay  actually  fire?  Were 
wise  who  wist !  It  stands  asserted ;  to  us  not  credibly.  But 
be  this  as  it  may,  menaced  Rascality,  in  whinnying  scorn,  is 


October  6th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  239 

shaking  at  all  Grates:  the  fastening  of  one  (some  write,  it  was 
a  chain  merely)  gives  way;  Rascality  is  in  the  Grand  Court, 
whinnying  louder  still. 

The  maledicent  Bodyguard,  more  Bodyguards  than  he  do 
now  give  fire ;  a  man's  arm  is  shattered.  Lecointre  will  de- 
pose ;  that  "  the  Sieur  Cardine,  a  National  Guard  without 
arms,  was  stabbed."  But  see,  sure  enough,  poor  Jerome 
rtleritier,  an  unarmed  National  Guard  he  too,  "  cabinet- 
maker, a  saddler's  son,  of  Paris,"  with  the  down  of  youthhood 
still  on  his  chin, — he  reels  death-stricken ;  rushes  to  the  pave- 
ment, scattering  it  with  his  blood  and  brains  ! — AUeleu  !  Wilder 
than  Irish  wakes  rises  the  howl ;  of  pity,  of  infinite  revenge. 
In  few  moments,  the  Grate  of  the  inner  and  inmost  Court, 
which  they  name  Court  of  Marble,  this  too  is  forced,  or  sur- 
prised, and  bursts  open :  the  Court  of  Marble  too  is  over- 
flowed :  up  the  Grand  Staircase,  up  all  stairs  and  entrances 
rushes  the  living  Deluge !  Deshuttes  and  Varigny,  the  two 
sentry  Bodyguards,  are  trodden  down,  are  massacred  with  a 
hundred  pikes.  Women  snatch  their  cutlasses,  or  any  weapon, 
and  storm-in  Menadic : — other  women  lift  the  corpse  of  shot 
Jerome ;  lay  it  down  on  the  Marble  steps ;  there  shall  the 
livid  face  and  smashed  head,  dumb  forever,  speak. 

Woe  now  to  all  Bodyguards,  mercy  is  none  for  them !  Mio- 
mandre  de  Sainte-Marie  pleads  with  soft  words,  on  the  Grand 
Staircase,  "  descending  four  steps :" — to  the  roaring  tornado. 
His  comrades  snatch  him  up,  by  the  skirts  and  belts ;  literally, 
from  the  jaws  of  Destruction ;  and  slam-to  their  Door.  This 
also  will  stand  few  instants ;  the  panels  shivering  in,  like  pot- 
sherds. Barricading  serves  not :  fly  fast,  ye  Bodyguards :  rabid 
Insurrection,  like  the  Hellhound  Chase,  uproaring  at  your 
heels ! 

The  terror-struck  Bodyguards  fly,  bolting  and  barricading; 
it  follows.  Whitherward  ?  Through  hall  on  hall :  woe.  now  ! 
towards  the  Queen's  Suite  of  Rooms,  in  the  farthest  room  of 
which  the  Queen  is  now  asleep.  Five  sentinels  rush  through 
that  long  Suite ;  they  are  in  the  Anteroom  knocking  loud  : 
"  Save  the  Queen !  "  Trembling  women  fall  at  their  feet  with 
tears:  are  answered  :  "  Yes,  we,  will  die  ;  save  ye  the  Queen  !  " 

Tremble  not,  women,  but  haste :  for,  lo,  another  voice 
shouts  far  through  the  outermost  door,  "  Save  the  Queen  !  " 
j  Deposition  dc  Lccuiiilrc  (in  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  111-115). 


240  CARLYLE  [1789 

and  the  door  is  shut.  It  is  brave  Miomandre's  voice  that 
shouts  this  second  warning.  He  has  stormed  across  imminent 
death  to  do  it ;  fronts  imminent  death,  having  done  it.  Brave 
Tardivet  du  Repaire,  bent  on  the  same  desperate  service,  was 
borne  down  with  pikes ;  his  comrades  hardly  snatched  him  in 
again  ahve.  Miomandre  and  Tardivet :  let  the  names  of  these  "7 
two  Bodyguards,  as  the  names  of  brave  men  should,  live  long. 

Trembling  Maids-of-Honor,  one  of  whom  from  afar  caught 
glimpse  of  Miomandre  as  well  as  heard  him,  hastily  wrap  the 
Queen ;  not  in  robes  of  state.  She  flies  for  her  life,  across 
the  CEil-de-Boeuf ;  against  the  main  door  of  which  too  Insur- 
rection batters.  She  is  in  the  King's  Apartment,  in  the  King's 
arms ;  she  clasps  her  children  amid  a  faithful  few.  The  Im-^ 
perial-hearted  bursts  into  mother's  tears :  "  O  my  friends,  save 
me  and  my  children ;  O  mcs  amis,  sauves-moi  et  ines  en- 
fans!"  The  battering  of  Insurrectionary  axes  clangs  audible 
across  the  Qlil-de-Boeuf.     What  an  hour! 

Yes,  Friends ;  a  hideous  fearful  hour ;  shameful  alike  to 
Governed  and  Governor;  wherein  Governed  and  Governor 
ignominiously  testify  that  their  relation  is  at  an  end.  Rage, 
which  had  brewed  itself  in  twenty  thousand  hearts  for  the 
last  four-and-twenty  hours,  has  taken  ftre:  Jerome's  brained 
corpse  lies  there  as  live-coal.  It  is,  as  we  said,  the  infinite 
Element  bursting  in;  wild-surging  through  all  corridors  and 
conduits. 

Meanwhile  the  poor  Bodyguards  have  got  hunted  mostly 
into  the  CEil-de-BcEuf.  They  may  die  there,  at  the  King's  thresh- 
old ;  they  can  do  little  to  defend  it.  They  are  heaping  tabou- 
rets (stools  of  honor),  benches  and  all  movables  against  the 
door ;  at  which  the  axe  of  Insurrection  thunders. — But  did 
brave  Miomandre  perish,  then,  at  the  Queen's  outer  door?  No, 
he  was  fractured,  slashed,  lacerated,  left  for  dead ;  he  has 
nevertheless  crawled  hither ;  and  shall  live,  honored  of  loyal 
France.  Remark  also,  in  flat  contradiction  to  much  which 
has  been  said  and  sung,  that  Insurrection  did  not  burst  that 
door  he  had  defended ;  but  hurried  elsewhither,  seeking  new 
Bodyguards. /^ 

Poor  Bodyguards,  with  their  Thyestes  Opera-Repast !  Well 
for  them  that  Insurrection  has  only  pikes  and  axes ;  no  right 
sieging-tools !     It  shakes  and  thunders.     Must  they  all  perish 

k  Campan,  ii.  75-87. 


October  6th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  241 

miserably,  and  Royalty  with  them?  Deshuttes  and  Varigny, 
massacred  at  the  first  inbreak,  have  been  beheaded  in  the 
Marble  Court;  a  sacrifice  to  Jerome's  manes:  Jourdan  with 
the  tile-beard  did  that  duty  willingly;  and  asked.  If  there 
were  no  more?  Another  captive  they  are  leading-  round  the 
corpse,  with  howl-chantings :  may  not  Jourdan  again  tuck-up 
his  sleeves? 

And  louder  and  louder  rages  Insurrection  within,  plunder- 
ing if  it  cannot  kill;  louder  and  louder  it  thunders  at  the 
CEil-de-Boeuf :  what  can  now  hinder  its  bursting-in? — On  a 
sudden  it  ceases;  the  battering  has  ceased!  Wild-rushing; 
the  cries  grow  fainter ;  there  is  silence,  or  the  tramp  of  regu- 
lar steps;  then  a  friendly  knocking:  "We  are  the  Centre-^ 
Grenadiers,  old  Gardes  Frangaises :  Open  to  us.  Messieurs  of 
the  Garde-du-Corps ;  we  have  not  forgotten  how  you  saved 
us  at  Fontenoy !  "^  The  door  is  opened ;  enter  Captain  Gon- 
dran  and  the  Centre  Grenadiers :  there  are  military  embracings ; 
there  is  sudden  deliverance  from  death  into  life. 

Strange  Sons  of  Adam !  It  was  to  "  exterminate  "  these 
Gardes-du-Corps  that  the  Centre  Grenadiers  left  home:  and 
now  they  have  rushed  to  save  them  from  extermination.  The 
memory  of  common  peril,  of  old  help,  melts  the  rough  heart ; 
bosom  is  clasped  to  bosom,  not  in  war.  The  King  shows  him- 
self, one  moment,  through  the  door  of  his  Apartment,  with: 
"  Do  not  hurt  my  Guards !  " — "  Soyons  frcres,  Let  us  be 
brothers !  "  cries  Captain  Gondran ;  and  again  dashes  off,  with 
levelled  bayonets,  to  sweep  the  Palace  clear. 

Now  too  Lafayette,  suddenly  roused,  not  from  sleep  (for 
his  eyes  had  not  yet  closed),  arrives;  with  passionate  popular 
eloquence,  with  prompt  military  word  of  command.  National 
Guards,  suddenly  roused,  by  sound  of  trumpet  and  alarm- 
drum,  are  all  arriving.  The  death-melly  ceases :  the  first  sky- 
lambent  blaze  of  Insurrection  is  got  damped  down ;  it  burns 
now,  if  unextinguished  yet  flamclcss,  as  charred  coals  do, 
and  not  inextinguishable.  The  King's  Apartments  are  safe. 
Ministers,  Officials,  and  even  some  loyal  National  Deputies 
are  assembling  round  their  Majesties.  The  consternation  will, 
with  sobs  and  confusion,  settle  down  gradually,  into  plan  and 
counsel,  better  or  worse. 

But  glance  now,  for  a  moment,  from  the  royal  windows! 

/  Toulongeon,  i.    144. 
Vol..   T.— 16 


242  CARLYLE  [1789 

A  roaring  sea  of  human  heads,  inundating  both  Courts ;  bil- 
lowing against  all  passages:  Menadic  women;  infuriated 
men,  mad  with  revenge,  with  love  of  mischief,  love  of  plunder ! 
Rascality  has  slipped  its  muzzle ;  and  now  bays,  three-throated, 
like  the  Dog  of  Erebus.  Fourteen  Bodyguards  are  wounded  ; 
two  massacred,  and  as  we  saw,  beheaded ;  Jourdan  asking, 
"Was  it  worth  while  to  come  so  far  for  two?"  Hapless 
Deshuttes  and  Varigny !  Their  fate  surely  was  sad.  Whirled 
down  so  suddenly  to  the  abyss ;  as  men  are,  suddenly,  by 
the  wide  thunder  of  the  Mountain  Avalanche,  awakened  not 
by  them,  awakened  far  off  by  others !  When  the  Chateau- 
Clock  last  struck,  they  two  were  pacing  languid,  with  poised 
musketoon ;  anxious  mainly  that  the  next  hour  would  strike. 
It  has  struck ;  to  them  inaudible.  Their  trunks  lie  mangled : 
their  heads  parade,  "  on  pikes  twelve  feet  long,"  through  the 
streets  of  Versailles ;  and  shall,  about  noon,  reach  the  Bar- 
riers of  Paris, — a  too  ghastly  contradiction  to  the  large  com- 
fortable Placards  that  have  been  posted  there ! 

The  other  captive  Bodyguard  is  still  circling  the  corpse  of 
Jerome,  amid  Indian  war-whooping;  bloody  Tilebeard,  with 
tucked  sleeves,  brandishing  his  bloody  axe ;  when  Gondran 
and  the  Grenadiers  come  in  sight.  "  Comrades,  will  you  see 
a  man  massacred  in  cold  blood  ?  " — "  Off,  butchers  !  "  answer 
they ;  and  the  poor  Bodyguard  is  free.  Busy  runs  Gondran, 
busy  run  Guards  and  Captains;  scouring  all  corridors;  dis- 
persing Rascality  and  Robbery ;  sweeping  the  Palace  clear. 
The  mangled  carnage  is  removed ;  Jerome's  body  to  the  Town- 
hall,  for  inquest :  the  fire  of  Insurrection  gets  damped,  more 
and  more,  into  measurable,  manageable  heat. 

Transcendent  things  of  all  sorts,  as  in  the  general  out- 
burst of  multitudinous  Passion,  are  huddled  together ;  the 
ludicrous,  nay  the  ridiculous,  with  the  horrible.  Far  over  the 
billowy  sea  of  heads,  may  be  seen  Rascality,  caprioling  on 
horses  from  the  Royal  Stud.  The  Spoilers  these ;  for  Patriot- 
ism is  always  infected  so,  with  a  proportion  of  mere  thieves 
and  scoundrels.  Gondran  snatched  their  prey  from  them  in 
the  Chateau ;  whereupon  they  hurried  to  the  Stables,  and 
took  hor.se  there.  But  the  generous  Diomedes'  steeds,  accord- 
ing to  Weber,  disdained  such  scoundrel-burden ;  and,  fling- 
ing-up  their  royal  heels,  did  soon  project  most  of  it,  in  para- 


October  6th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  243 

bolic  curves,  to  a  distance,  amid  peals  of  laughter ;    and  were 
caught.     Mounted   National   Guards  secured  the   rest. 

Now  too  is  witnessed  the  touching  last-flicker  of  Etiquette ; 
which  sinks  not  here,  in  the  Cimmerian  World-wreckage,  with- 
out a  sign;  as  the  house-cricket  might  still  chirp  in  the 
pealing  of  a  Trump  of  Doom.  "  Monsieur,"  said  soine  Master 
of  Ceremonies  (one  hopes  it  might  be  De  Breze),  as  La- 
fayette, in  these  fearful  moments,  was  rushing  towards  the 
inner  Royal  Apartments,  "Monsieur,  le  Roi  vons  accorde  les 
grandes  entrees,  Monsieur,  the  King  grants  you  the  Grand 
Entries,"  not  finding  it  convenient  to  refuse  them  \a 


Chapter  XI. — From  Versailles. 

However,  the  Paris  National  Guard,  wholly  under  arms, 
has  cleared  the  Palace,  and  even  occupies  the  nearer  external 
spaces ;  extruding  miscellaneous  Patriotism,  for  most  part, 
into  the  Grand  Court,  or  even  into  the  Forecourt. 

The  Bodyguards,  you  can  observe,  have  now  of  a  verity 
"hoisted  the  National  Cockade:"  for  they  step  forward  to  the 
windows  or  balconies,  hat  aloft  in  hand,  on  each  hat  a  huge 
tricolor ;  and  fling  over  their  bandoleers  in  sign  of  surrender ; 
and  shout  Vk'e  la  Nation.  To  which  how  can  the  generous 
heart  respond  but  with,  Vive  le  Roi;  vivent  les  Gardes-du- 
Corps?  His  Majesty  himself  has  appeared  with  Lafayette  on 
the  balcony,  and  again  appears:  Vive  le  Roi  greets  him  from 
all  throats ;  but  also  from  some  one  throat  is  heard,  "  Le  Roi 
a  Paris,  The  King  to  Paris !  " 

Her  Majesty  too,  on  demand,  shows  herself,  though  there 
is  peril  in  it:  she  steps  out  on  the  balcony,  with  her  little 
boy  and  girl.  "  No  children,  Point  d'cnfans!"  cry  the  voices. 
She  gently  pushes  back  her  children ;  and  stands  alone,  her 
hands  serenely  crossed  on  her  breast :  "  Should  I  die,"  she 
had  said,  "  I  will  do  it."  Such  serenity  of  heroism  has  its 
effect.  Lafayette,  with  ready  wit,  in  his  highflown  chivalrous 
way,  takes  that  fair  queenly  hand,  and,  reverently  kneeling, 
kisses  it :  thereupon  the  people  do  shout  Vive  la  Reiiie.  Never- 
theless, poor  Weber  "  saw  "  (or  even  thought  he  saw  ;  for 
hardly  the  third  part  of  poor  Weber's  experiences,   in   such 

a  Toulongeon,  i.  App.  120. 


2  44  CARLYLE  [1789 

hysterical  days,  will  stand  scrutiny)  "one  of  these  brigands 
level  his  musket  at  her  Majesty," — with  or  without  intention 
to  shoot ;  for  another  of  the  brigands  "  angrily  struck  it  down." 

So  that  all,  and  the  Queen  herself,  nay  the  very  Captain  of 
the  Bodyguards,  have  grown  National !  The  very  Captain 
of  the  Bodyguards  steps  out  now  with  Lafayette.  On  the 
hat  of  the  repentant  man  is  an  enormous  tricolor;  large  as 
a  soup-platter  or  sunflower;  visible  to  the  utmost  Forecourt. 
He  takes  the  National  Oath  with  a  loud  voice,  elevating  his 
hat ;  at  which  sight  all  the  army  raise  their  bonnets  on  their 
bayonets,  with  shouts.  Sweet  is  reconcilement  to  the  heart 
of  man.  Lafayette  has  sworn  Flandre ;  he  swears  the  re- 
maining Bodyguards,  down  in  the  Marble  Court ;  the  people 
clasp  them  in  their  arms : — O  my  brothers,  why  would  ye  force 
us  to  slay  you?  Behold,  there  is  joy  over  you,  as  over  re- 
turning prodigal  sons ! — The  poor  Bodyguards,  now  National 
and  tricolor,  exchange  bonnets,  exchange  arms ;  there  shall 
be  peace  and  fraternity.  And  still  "  Viz'e  le  Roi;"  and  also 
"  Le  Roi  a  Paris,"  not  now  from  one  throat,  but  from  all  throats 
as  one,  for  it  is  the  heart's  wish  of  all  mortals. 

Yes,  The  King  to  Paris:  what  else?  Ministers  may  con- 
sult, and  National  Deputies  wag  their  heads :  but  there  is 
now  no  other  possibility.  You  have  forced  him  to  go  willingly. 
"  At  one  o'clock !  "  Lafayette  gives  audible  assurance  to  that 
purpose ;  and  universal  Insurrection,  with  immeasurable  shout, 
and  a  discharge  of  all  fire-arms,  clear  and  rusty,  great  and 
small,  that  it  has,  returns  him  acceptance.  What  a  sound ; 
heard  for  leagues :  a  doom-peal ! — That  sound  too  rolls  away  ; 
into  the  Silence  of  Ages.  And  the  Chateau  of  Versailles 
stands  ever  since  vacant,  hushed-still ;  its  spacious  Courts 
grassgrown,  responsive  to  the  hoe  of  the  weeder.  Times  and 
generations  roll  on,  in  their  confused  Gulf-current ;  and  build- 
ings, like  builders,  have  their  destiny. 

Till  one  o'clock,  then,  there  will  be  three  parties.  National 
Assembly,  National  Rascality.  National  Royalty,  all  busy 
enough.  Rascality  rejoices ;  women  trim  themselves  with 
tricolor.  Nay  motherly  Paris  has  sent  her  Avengers  sufficient 
"  cartloads  of  loaves  ;"  which  are  shouted  over,  which  are  grate- 
fully consumed.  The  Avengers,  in  return,  are  searching  for 
grain-stores ;  loading  them  in  fifty  wagons ;  that  so  a  National 
King,  probable  harbinger  of  all  blessings,  may  be  the  evident 
bringer  of  plenty,  for  one. 


October  6th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  245 

And  thus  has  Sansculottism  made  prisoner  its  King;    re-^ 
voking  his  parole.   The  Monarchy  has  fallen,  and  not  so  much 
as  honorably :    no,  ignominiously ;    with  struggle,  indeed,  oft-  \ 
repeated ;  but  then  with  unwise  struggle ;  wasting  its  strength  ' 
in  fits  and  paroxysms;    at  every  new  paroxysm  foiled  more 
pitifully  than  before.    Thus  Broglie's  whiff  of  grapeshot,  which 
might  have   been  something,   has   dwindled   to   the  pot-valor 
of  an  Opera  Repast,  and  O  Richard,  O  mon  Roi.     Which, 
again,  we  shall  see  dwindle  to  a  Favras  Conspiracy,  a  thingj 
to  be  settled  by  the  hanging  of  one  Chevalier.  — ' 

Poor  Monarchy!  But  what  save  foulest  defeat  can  await 
that  man,  who  wills,  and  yet  wills  not?  Apparently  the  King 
either  has  a  right,  assertible  as  such  to  the  death,  before  God 
and  man ;  or  else  he  has  no  right.  Apparently,  the  one  or 
the  other ;  could  he  but  know  which !  May  Heaven  pity 
him !  Were  Louis  wise,  he  would  this  day  abdicate. — Is  it 
not  strange  so  few  Kings  abdicate ;  and  none  yet  heard  of 
has  been  known  to  commit  suicide?  Fritz  the  First,  of 
Prussia,  alone  tried   it;    and  they  cut  the  rope.b 

As  for  the  National  Assembly,  which  decrees  this  morning 
that  it  "  is  inseparable  from  his  Majesty,"  and  will  follow  him 
to  Paris,  there  may  one  thing  be  noted :  its  extreme  want  of 
bodily  health.  After  the  Fourteenth  of  July  there  was  a  cer- 
tain sickliness  observable  among  honorable  Members :  so  many 
demanding  passports,  on  account  of  infirm  health.  But  now, 
for  these  following  days,  there  is  a  perfect  murrain :  Presi- 
dent Mounier,  Lally  Tollendal,  Clermont  Tonnere,  and  all 
Constitutional  Two-Chamber  Royalists  needing  change  of  air ; 
as  most  No-Chamber  Royalists  had  formerly  done. 

For,  in  truth,  it  is  the  second  Emigration  this  that  has  now 
come ;  most  extensive  among  Commons  Deputies,  Noblesse, 
Clergy :  so  that  "  to  Switzerland  alone  there  go  sixty  thou- 
sand." They  will  return  in  the  day  of  accounts !  Yes,  and 
have  hot  welcome. — But  Emigration  on  Emigration  is  the 
peculiarity  of  France.  One  Emigration  follows  another ; 
grounded  on  reasonable  fear,  unreasonable  hope,  largely  also 
on  childish  pet.  The  highflyers  have  gone  first,  now  the  lower 
flyers ;    and   ever  the   lower  will   go,   down  to  the  crawlers. 

b  Calumnious  rumor,  current  long  since,  in  loose  vehicles  iEdiuhurp,h 
Rcvic7v  on  Memoircs  de  Bastille,  for  example),  concerning  Fricdrich 
Wilhelm  and  his  ways,  then  so  mysterious  and  miraculous  to  many; — 
not  the  least  truth  in  it!     {Note  of  1868.) 


246  CARLYLE  [1789 

Whereby,  however,  cannot  our  National  Assembly  so  much 
the  more  commodiously  make  the  Constitution ;  your  Two- 
Chamber  Anglomaniacs  being  all  safe,  distant  on  foreign 
shores  ?  Abbe  Maury  is  seized  and  sent  back  again :  he, 
tough  as  tanned  leather,  with  eloquent  Captain  Cazales  and 
some  others,  will  stand  it  out  for  another  year. 

But  here,  meanwhile,  the  question  arises :  Was  Philippe 
d'Orleans  seen,  this  day,  "  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  in,  gray 
surtout ;"  waiting  under  the  wet  sere  foliage,  what  the  day 
might  bring  forth?  Alas,  yes,  the  Eidolon  of  him  was, — in 
Weber's  and  other  such  brains.  The  Chatelet  shall  make 
large  inquisition  into  the  matter,  examining  a  hundred  and 
seventy  witnesses,  and  Deputy  Chabroud  publish  his  Report; 
but  disclose  nothing  farthcr.c  What,  then,  has  caused  these 
two  unparalleled  October  Days?  For  surely  such  dramatic 
exhibition  never  yet  enacted  itself  without  Dramatist  and 
Machinist.  Wooden  Punch  emerges  not,  with  his  domestic 
sorrows,  into  the  light  of  day,  unless  the  wire  be  pulled :  how 
can  human  mobs?  Was  it  not  D'Orleans,  then,  and  Laclos, 
Marquis  Sillery,  Mirabeau  and  the  sons  of  confusion ;  hoping 
to  drive  the  King  to  Metz,  and  gather  the  spoil?  Nay  was 
it  not,  quite  contrariwise,  the  CEil-de-Boeuf,  Bodyguard  Colonel 
de  Guichc,  Minister  Saint-Priest  and  high-flying  Loyalists ; 
hoping  also  to  drive  him  to  Metz,  and  try  it  by  the  sword  of 
civil  war?  Good  Marquis  Toulongeon,  the  Historian  and 
Deputy,  feels  constrained  to  admit  that  it  was  both.c^ 

Alas,  my  Friends,  credulous  incredulity  is  a  strange  matter. 
But  when  a  whole  Nation  is  smitten  with  Suspicion,  and  sees 
a  dramatic  miracle  in  the  very  operation  of  the  gastric  juices, 
what  help  is  there?  Such  Nation  is  already  a  mere  hypochon- 
driac bundle  of  diseases  ;  as  good  as  changed  into  glass ;  atra- 
biliar,  decadent ;  and  will  suffer  crises.  Is  not  Suspicion  itself 
the  one  thing  to  be  suspected,  as  Montaigne  feared  only  fear? 

Now,  however,  the  short  hour  has  struck.  His  Majesty  is 
in  his  carriage,  with  his  Queen,  sister  Elizabeth  and  two  royal 
children.  Not  for  another  hour  can  the  infinite  Procession  get 
marshalled  and  under  way.  The  weather  is  dim  drizzling ;  the 
mind  confused ;    the  noise  great. 

Processional  marches  not  a  few  our  world  has  seen ;  Roman 
triumphs  and  ovations,  Cabiric  cymbal-beatings,  Royal  prog- 

c  Rapport  dc  Chabroud  {Monitetir,  du  31  Decembre  1789). 
d  Toulongeon,  i.  150. 


October  6th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  247 

resses,  Irish  funerals;  but  this  of  the  French  Monarchy 
marching-  to  its  bed  remained  to  be  seen.  Miles  long,  and  of 
breadth  losing  itself  in  vagueness,  for  all  the  neighboring 
country  crowds  to  see.  Slow ;  stagnating  along,  like  shoreless 
Lake,  yet  with  a  noise  like  Niagara,  like  Babel  and  Bedlam. 
A  splashing  and  a  trampling;  a  hurrahing,  uproaring,  mus- 
ket-volleying ; — the  truest  segment  of  Chaos  seen  in  these  latter 
Ages !  Till  slowly  it  disembogue  itself,  in  the  thickening  dusk, 
into  expectant  Paris,  through  a  double  row  of  faces  all  the 
way  from  Passy  to  the  H6tel-de-Ville. 

Consider  this :  Vanguard  of  National  troops ;  with  trains 
of  artillery;  of  pikemen  and  pikewomen,  mounted  on  can- 
nons, on  carts,  hackney-coaches,  or  on  foot; — tripudiating,  in 
tricolor  ribbons  from  head  to  heel;  loaves  stuck  on  the  points 
of  bayonets,  green  boughs  stuck  in  gun-barrels.^  Next,  as 
main-march,  "  fifty  cart-loads  of  corn,"  which  have  been  lent, 
for  peace,  from  the  stores  of  Versailles.  Behind  which  fol- 
low stragglers  of  the  Garde-du-Corps ;  all  humiliated,  in 
Grenadier  bonnets.  Close  on  these  comes  the  Royal  Car- 
riage ;  come  Royal  Carriages :  for  there  are  a  Hundred  Na- 
tional Deputies  too,  among  whom  sits  Mirabeau, — his  remarks 
not  given.  Then  finally,  pellmell,  as  rear-guard,  Flandre, 
Swiss,  Hundred  Swiss,  other  Bodyguards,  Brigands,  whoso- 
ever cannot  get  before.  Between  and  among  all  which  masses 
flows  without  limit  Saint-Antoine  and  the  Menadic  Cohort. 
Menadic  especially  about  the  Royal  Carriage;  tripudiating 
there,  covered  with  tricolor ;  singing  "  allusive  songs ;"  point- 
ing with  one  hand  to  the  Royal  Carriage,  which  the  allusions 
hit,  and  pointing  to  the  Provision-wagons  with  the  other 
hand,  and  these  words :  "  Courage,  Friends !  We  shall  not 
want  bread  now ;  we  are  bringing  you  the  Baker,  the  Bakeress 
and  Baker's-boy  (le  Boulanger,  la  Boulangcre  et  le  petit 
Mitron)"f 

The  wet  day  draggles  the  tricolor,  but  the  joy  is  inex- 
tinguishable. Is  not  all  well  now?  "Ah,  Madame,  noire 
bonne  Rcine,"  said  some  of  these  Strong-women  some  days 
hence,  "  Ah,  Madame,  our  good  Queen,  don't  be  a  traitor  any 
more  {ne  soyc::  plus  traitre),  and  we  will  all  love  you!" 
Poor  Weber  went  splashing  along,  close  by  the  Royal  Car- 

eMercier,  Noiivcaii  Paris,  iii.  21. 

/  Toulongcon,  i.  134-161;  Deux  Amis,  iii.  c.  9;  &c.  &c. 


248  CARLYLE  [1789 

riage,  with  the  tear  in  his  eye:  "their  Majesties  did  me  the 
honor,"  or  I  thought  they  did  it,  "  to  testify,  from  time  to 
time,  by  shrugging  of  the  shoulders,  by  looks  directed  to 
Heaven,  the  emotions  they  felt."  Thus,  like  frail  cockle, 
floats  the  royal  Life-boat,  helmless,  on  black  deluges  of  Ras- 
cality. 

Mercier,  in  his  loose  way,  estimates  the  Procession  and 
assistants  at  two  hundred  thousand.  He  says  it  was  one 
boundless  inarticulate  Haha; — transcendent  World-Laughter; 
comparable  to  the  Saturnalia  of  the  Ancients.  Why  not? 
Here  too,  as  we  said,  is  Human  Nature  once  more  human; 
shudder  at  it  whoso  is  of  shuddering  humor;  yet,  behold, 
it  is  human.  It  has  "  swallowed  all  formulas ;"  it  tripudiates 
even  so.  For  which  reason  they  that  collect  Vases  and  An- 
tiques, with  figures  of  Dancing  Bacchantes  "  in  wild  and  ail- 
but  impossible  positions,"  may  look  with  some  interest  on  it. 

Thus,  however,  has  the  slow-moving  Chaos,  or  modern 
Saturnalia  of  the  Ancients,  reached  the  Barrier;  and  must 
halt,  to  be  harangued  by  Mayor  Bailly.  Thereafter  it  has 
to  lumber  along,  between  the  double  row  of  faces,  in  the 
transcendent  heaven-lashing  Haha ;  two  hours  longer,  to- 
wards the  H6tel-de-Ville.  Then  again  to  be  harangued  there, 
by  several  persons ;  by  Moreau  de  Saint-Mery  among  others ; 
Moreau  of  the  Three-thousand  orders,  now  National  Deputy 
for  St.  Domingo.  To  all  which  poor  Louis,  "  who  seemed 
to  experience  a  slight  emotion  "  on  entering  this  Townhall, 
can  answer  only  that  he  "  comes  with  pleasure,  with  confi- 
dence among  his  people."  Mayor  Bailly,  in  reporting  it,  for- 
gets "confidence:"  and  the  poor  Queen  says  eagerly:  "Add, 
with  confidence." — "  Messieurs,"  rejoins  Mayor  Bailly,  "  you 
are  happier  than  if  I  had  not  forgotten." 

Finally,  the  King  is  shown  on  an  upper  balcony,  by  torch- 
light, with  a  huge  tricolor  in  his  hat :  "  and  all  the  people," 
says  Weber,  "  grasped  one  another's  hand ;" — thinking  nozv 
surely  the  New  Era  was  born.  Hardly  till  eleven  at  night 
can  Royalty  get  to  its  vacant,  long-deserted  Palace  of  the 
Tuilerics ;  to  lodge  there,  somewhat  in  strolling-player  fashion. 
It  is  Tuesday  the  6th  of  October  1789. 

Poor  Louis  has  Two  other  Paris  Processions  to  make:  one 
ludicrous-ignominious  like  this;  the  other  not  ludicrous  nor 
ignominious,  but  serious,  nay  sublime. 


THE    FRENCH    REVOLUTION 

THE  CONSTITUTION. 


Mauern  seh'  ich  gestiirzt,  und  Mauern  seh'  ich  errichtet, 
Hier  Gefangene,  dort  auch  der  Gefangenen  viel. 

1st  vielleicht  nur  die  Welt  ein  grosser  Kerker?    Und  frei  ist 
Wohl  der  Tolle,  der  sich  Ketten  zu  Kranzen  erkiest? 

Goethe. 


JEPISODE   OF   THE  DEFENCE   OF  SARAGOSSA. 

{1809.) 

Photogravure  from  a  painting  by  Jules  Girardet. 


THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 
BOOK   FIRST. 

THE    FEAST    OF    PIKES. 

Chapter  I. — In  the  Tuileries. 

THE  victim  having  once  got  his  stroke-of-grace,  the 
catastrophe  can  be  considered  as  almost  come.  There 
is  small  interest  now  in  watching  his  long  low  moans : 
notable  only  are  his  sharper  agonies,  what  convulsive  strug- 
gles he  may  make  to  cast  the  torture  off  from  him ;  and  then 
finally  the  last  departure  of  life  itself,  and  how  he  lies  ex- 
tinct and  ended,  either  wrapt  like  Caesar  in  decorous  mantle- 
folds,  or  unseemly  sunk  together,  like  one  that  had  not  the 
force  even  to  die. 

Was  French  Royalty,  when  wrenched  forth  from  its  tapes- t 
tries  in  that  fashion,  on  that  Sixth  of  October  1789,  such  a 
victim?  Universal  France,  and  Royal  Proclamation  to  all  the 
Provinces,  answers  anxiously.  No.  Nevertheless  one  may 
fear  the  worst.  Royalty  was  beforehand  so  decrepit,  mori- 
bund, there  is  little  life  in  it  to  heal  an  injury.  How  much 
of  its  strength,  which  was  of  the  imagination  merely,  has 
fled ;  Rascality  having  looked  plainly  in  the  King's  face,  and 
not  died !  When  the  assembled  crows  can  pluck  up  their 
scarecrow,  and  say  to  it.  Here  shalt  thou  stand  and  not  there ; 
and  can  treat  with  it,  and  make  it,  from  an  infinite,  a  quite 
finite  Constitutional  scarecrow, — what  is  to  be  looked  for? 
Not  in  the  finite  Constitutional  scarecrow,  but  in  what  still 
unmeasured,  infinite-seeming  force  may  rally  round  it,  is 
there  thenceforth  any  hope.  For  it  is  most  true  that  all  avail- 
able Authority  is  mystic  in  its  conditions,  and  comes  "  by  the 
grace  of  God." 

Cheerfullcr  than  watching  the  death-struggles  of  Royalism 

251 


252  CARLYLE  [1789 

will  it  be  to  watch  the  growth  and  gambollings  of  Sansculot- 
tism;  for,  in  human  things,  especially  in  human  society,  all  "^  L 
death  is  but  a  death-birth :  thus  if  the  sceptre  is  departing .  '  '^^ 
from  Louis,  it  is  only  that,  in  other  forms,  other  sceptres, 
were  it  even  pike-sceptres,  may  bear  sway.  In  a  prurient 
element,  rich  with  nutritive  influences,  we  shall  find  that 
Sansculottism  grows  lustily,  and  even  frisks  in  not  ungrace- 
ful sport :  as  indeed  most  young  creatures  are  sportful ;  nay, 
may  it  not  be  noted  further,  that  as  the  grown  cat,  and  cat 
species  generally,  is  the  crudest  thing  known,  so  the  mer- 
riest is  precisely  the  kitten,  or  growing  cat? 

But  fancy  the  Royal  Family  risen  from  its  truckle-beds  on 
the  morrow  of  that  mad  day:  fancy  the  Municipal  inquiry, 
"  How  would  your  Majesty  please  to  lodge?  " — and  then  that 
the  King's  rough  answer,  "  Each  may  lodge  as  he  can,  I  am 
well  enough,"  is  congeed  and  bowed  away,  in  expressive  grins, 
by  the  Townhall  Functionaries,  with  obsequious  upholsterers 
at  their  back ;  and  how  the  Chateau  of  the  Tuileries  is  re-  "! 
painted,  regarnished  into  a  golden  Royal  Residence ;  and 
Lafayette  with  his  blue  National  Guards  lies  encompassing 
it,  as  blue  Neptune  (in  the  language  of  poets)  does  an  island,! 
wooingly.  Thither  may  the  wrecks  of  rehabilitated  Loyalty" 
gather,  if  it  will  become  Constitutional ;  for  Constitutionalism 
thinks  no  evil ;  Sansculottism  itself  rejoices  in  the  King's 
countenance.  The  rubbish  of  a  Menadic  Insurrection,  as  in 
this  ever-kindly  world  all  rubbish  can  and  must  be,  is  swept 
aside ;  and  so  again,  on  clear  arena,  under  new  conditions, 
with  something  even  of  a  new  stateliness,  we  begin  a  new 
course  of  action. 

Arthur  Young  has  witnessed  the  strangest  scene:  Majesty 
walking  unattended  in  the  Tuileries  Gardens;  and  miscel- 
laneous tricolor  crowds,  who  cheer  it,  and  reverently  make 
way  for  it :  the  very  Queen  commands  at  lowest  respectful 
silence,  regretful  avoidance.o  Simple  ducks,  in  those  royal 
waters,  quackle  for  crumbs  from  young  royal  fingers:  the 
little  Dauphin  has  a  little  railed  garden,  where  he  is  seen 
delving,  with  ruddy  cheeks  and  flaxen  curled  hair;  also  a 
little  hutch  to  put  his  tools  in,  and  screen  himself  against 
showers.  What  peaceable  simplicity !  Is  it  peace  of  a  Father 
restored  to  his  children?  Or  of  a  Taskmaster  who  has  lost 
a  Arthur  Young's  Travels,  i.  264-280. 


October]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTIOIM  253 

his  whip?  Lafayette  and  the  Municipahty  and  universal 
Constitutionalism  assert  the  former,  and  do  what  is  in  them 
to  realize  it.  Such  Patriotism  as  snarls  dangerously  and. 
shows  teeth,  PatroUotism  shall  suppress ;  or  far  better,  Royalty 
shall  soothe  down  the  angry  hair  of  it,  by  gentle  pattings; 
and,  most  effectual  of  all,  by  fuller  diet.  Yes,  not  only  shall 
Paris  be  fed,  but  the  King's  hand  be  seen  in  that  work.  The 
household  goods  of  the  Poor  shall,  up  to  a  certain  amount,  by 
royal  bounty,  be  disengaged  from  pawn,  and  that  insatiable 
Mont  de  Piete  shall  disgorge ;  rides  in  the  city  with  their 
Vive-le-Roi  need  not  fail :  and  so,  by  substance  and  show, 
shall  Royalty,  if  man's  art  can  popularize  it,  be  popularized. & 

Or,  alas,  is  it  neither  restored  Father  nor  diswhipped 
Taskmaster  that  walks  there ;  but  an  anomalous  complex  of 
both  these,  and  of  innumerable  other  heterogeneities:  re- 
ducible to  no  rubric,  if  not  to  this  newly-devised  one :  King 
Louis  Restorer  of  French  Liberty?  Man  indeed,  and  King 
Louis  like  other  men,  lives  in  this  world  to  make  rule  out  of  the 
ruleless ;  by  his  living  energy,  he  shall  force  the  absurd  itself  to 
become  less  absurd.  But  then  if  there  be  no  living  energy; 
living  passivity  only?  King  Serpent,  hurled  into  its  unex- 
pected watery  dominion,  did  at  least  bite,  and  assert  credibly 
that  he  was  there :  but  as  for  the  poor  King  Log,  tumbled  hither 
and  thither  as  thousand-fold  chance  and  other  will  than  his 
might  direct,  how  happy  for  him  that  he  was  indeed  wooden ; 
and,  doing,  could  also  see  and  suffer  nothing !  It  is  a  distracted 
business. 

For  his  French  Majesty,  meanwhile,  one  of  the  worst  things 
is,  that  he  can  get  no  hunting.  Alas,  no  hunting  henceforth ; 
only  a  fatal  being-hunted !  Scarcely,  in  the  next  June  wegks, 
shall  he  taste  again  the  joys  of  the  game-destroyer ;  in  next  June, 
and  never  more.  He  sends  for  his  smith-tools ;  gives,  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  official  or  ceremonial  business  being  ended, 
"  a  few  strokes  of  the  file,  quelques  coups  de  lime."  Innocent  ■■ 
brother  mortal,  why  wcrt  thou  not  an  obscure  substantial  maker 
of  locks ;  but  doomed  in  that  other  far-seen  craft,  to  be  a  maker 
only  of  world-follies,  unrealities ;  things  self-destructive,  which 
no  mortal  hammering  could  rivet  into  coherence ! 

Poor  Louis  is  not  without  insight,  nor  even  without  the  ele- 
ments of  will ;  some  sharpness  of  temper,  spurting  at  times  from 

b  Deux  Amis,  iii.  c.  10. 


2  54  CARLYLE  [1789 

a  stagnating  character.  If  harmless  inertness  could  save  him, 
it  were  well ;  but  he  will  slumber  and  painfully  dream,  and  to  do 
aught  is  not  given  him.  Royalist  Antiquarians  still  show  the 
rooms  where  Majesty  and  suite,  in  these  extraordinary  circum- 
stances, had  their  lodging.  Here  sat  the  Queen ;  reading, — for 
she  had  her  library  brought  hither,  though  the  King  refused  his  ; 
taking  vehement  counsel  of  the  vehement  uncounselled ;  sorrow- 
ing over  altered  times ;  yet  with  sure  hope  of  better :  in  her  young 
rosy  Boy  has  she  not  the  living  emblem  of  hope  ?  It  is  a  murky, 
working  sky ;  yet  with  golden  gleams — of  dawn,  or  of  deeper 
meteoric  night  ?  Here  again  this  chamber,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  main  entrance,  was  the  King's:  here  his  Majesty  break- 
fasted, and  did  official  work ;  here  daily  after  breakfast  he  re- 
ceived the  Queen  ;  sometimes  in  pathetic  friendliness  ;  sometimes 
in  human  sulkiness,  for  flesh  is  weak ;  and  when  questioned 
about  business,  would  answer :  "  Madame,  your  business  is  with 
the  children."  Nay,  Sire,  were  it  not  better  you,  your  Majesty's 
self,  took  the  children?  So  asks  impartial  History;  scornful 
that  the  thicker  vessel  was  not  also  the  stronger  ;  pity-struck  for 
the  porcelain-clay  of  humanity  rather  than  for  the  tile-clay, — 
though  indeed  both  were  broken  !  c 

So,  however,  in  this  Medicean  Tuileries,  shall  the  French 
King  and  Queen  now  sit  for  one-and-forty  months ;  and  see  a 
wild-fermenting  France  work  out  its  own  destiny,  and  theirs. 
Months  bleak,  ungenial,  of  rapid  vicissitude ;  yet  with  a  mild 
pale  slendor,  here  and  there :  as  of  an  April  that  were  leading 
to  leafiest  Summer ;  as  of  an  October  that  led  only  to  everlasting 
Frost.  Medicean  Tuileries,  how  changed  since  it  was  a  peace- 
ful Tile-field !  Or  is  the  ground  itself  fate-stricken,  accursed ; 
an  Atreus'  Palace ;  for  that  Louvre  window  is  still  nigh,  out  of 
which  a  Capet,  whipt  of  the  Furies,  fired  his  signal  of  the  Saint 
Bartholomew !  Dark  is  the  way  of  the  Eternal  as  mirrored  in 
this  world  of  Time :  God's  way  is  in  the  sea,  and  His  path  in  the 
great  deep. 


Chapter  II. — In  the  Salle  de  Manege. 

To  believing  Patriots,  however,  it  is  now  clear  that  the  Con- 
stitution will  march,  marcher, — had  it  once  legs  to  stand  on. 

c  Le  Chateau  dcs  Tuileries  ou  recit  &c.,  par  Roussel  (in  Hist.  Pari. 
iv.  195-219). 


Oct.-Nov.]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  255 

Quick,  then,  ye  Patriots,  bestir  yourselves,  and  make  it ;  shape 
legs  for  it !  In  the  Archevcchc,  or  Archbishop's  Palace,  his 
Grace  himself  having  fled !  and  afterwards  in  the  Riding-hall, 
named  Manege,  close  on  the  Tuileries:  there  does  a  National  Jf*" 
Assembly  apply  itself  to  the  miraculous  work.  Successfully,' 
had  there  been  any  heaven-scaling  Prometheus  among  them  ;  not 
successfully,  since  there  was  none !  There,  in  noisy  debate,  for 
the  sessions  are  occasionally  "  scandalous,"  and  as  many  as  three 
speakers  have  been  seen  in  the  Tribune  at  once, — let  us  continue 
to  fancy  it  wearing  the  slow  months. 

Tough,  dogmatic,  long  of  wind  is  Abbe  Maury ;  Ciceronian 
pathetic  is  Cazales.  Keen-trenchant,  on  the  other  side,  glitters 
a  young  Barnave ;  abhorrent  of  sophistry ;  shearing,  like  keen 
Damascus  sabre,  all  sophistry  asunder, — reckless  what  else  he 
shear  w^ith  it.  Simple  seemest  thou,  O  solid  Dutch-built  Petion  ; 
if  solid,  surely  dull.  Nor  lifegiving  is  that  tone  of  thine,  livelier 
polemical  Rabaut.  With  ineffable  serenity  sniffs  great  Sieyes, 
aloft,  alone ;  his  Constitution  ye  may  babble  over,  ye  may  mar, 
but  can  by  no  possibility  mend  :  is  not  Polity  a  science  he  has  ex- 
hausted? Cool,  slow,  two  military  Lameths  are  visible,  with 
their  quality  sneer,  or  demi-sneer ;  they  shall  gallantly  refund 
their  Mother's  Pension,  when  the  Red  Book  is  produced ;  gal- 
lantly he  wounded  in  duels.  A  Marquis  Toulongeon,  whose 
Pen  we  yet  thank,  sits  there ;  in  stoical  meditative  humor,  often- 
est  silent,  accepts  what  Destiny  will  send.  Thouret  and  Parle- 
mentary  Duport  produce  mountains  of  Reformed  Law ;  liberal, 
Anglomaniac ;  available  and  unavailable.  Mortals  rise  and  fall. 
Shall  goose  Gobel,  for  example, — or  Gobel,  for  he  is  of  Stras- 
burg  German  breed, — be  a  Constitutional  Archbishop? 

Alone  of  all  men  there,  Mirabcau  may  begin  to  discern  clearly^ 
whither  all  this  is  tending.     Patriotism,  accordingly,  regrets! 
that  his  zeal  seems  to  be  getting  cool.     In  that  famed  Pentecost-  j 
Night  of  the  Fourth  of  August,  when  new  Faith  rose  suddenly 
into  miraculous  fire,  and  old  Feudality  was  burnt  up,  men  re- 
marked that  Mirabeau  took  no  hand  in  it ;  that,  in  fact,  he  luckily 
happened  to  be  absent.     But  did  he  not  defend  the  V^cto,  nay. 
Veto  Absolii :  and  tell  vehement  Barnave  that  six  hundred  ir- 
responsible senators  would  make  of  all  tyrannies  the  insupport- 
ablest?    Again,  how  anxious  was  he  that  the  King's  Ministers 
should  have  seat  and  voice  in  the  National  Assembly  ; — doubtless    , 
with  an  eye  to  being  Minister  himself!     Whereupon  the  Na- 


256  CARLYLE  [1789—90 

tional  Assembly  decides,  what  is  very  momentous,  that  no 
Deputy  shall  be  Minister;  he,  in  his  haughty  stormful  manner, 
advising  us  to  make  it,  "  no  Deputy  called  Mirabeau."d  A  man 
of  perhaps  inveterate  Feudalism ;  of  stratagems ;  too  often 
visible  leanings  towards  the  Royalist  side :  a  man  suspect ;  whom 

f  Patriotism  will  unmask !  Thus,  in  these  June  days,  when  the 
question.  Who  shall  have  right  to  declare  zvar?  comes  on,  you 
hear  hoarse  Hawkers  sound  dolefully  through  the  streets, 
"  Grand  Treason  of  Count  Mirabeau,  price  only  one  sou ;  " — 
because  he  pleads  that  it  shall  be  not  the  Assembly,  but  the  King ! 
Pleads ;  nay  prevails :  for  in  spite  of  the  hoarse  Hawkers,  and 
an  endless  Populace  raised  by  them  to  the  pitch  even  of 
"  Lanterne,"  he  mounts  the  Tribune  next  day ;  grim-resolute ; 

j   murmuring  aside  to  his  friends  that  speak  of  danger :  "  I  know 

'   it:  I  must  come  hence  either  in  triumph,  or  else  torn  in  frag- 

,   ments :  "  and  it  was  in  triumph  that  he  came. 

A  man  stout  of  heart ;  whose  popularity  is  not  of  the  populace, 
"  pas  populaciere ;"  whom  no  clamor  of  unwashed  mobs  without 
doors,  or  of  washed  mobs  within,  can  scare  from  his  way ! 
Dumont  remembers  hearing  him  deliver  a  Report  on  Marseilles ; 
"  every  word  was  interrupted  on  the  part  of  the  Cote  Droit  by 
abusive  epithets ;  calumniator,  liar,  assassin,  scoundrel  (scclcrat) : 
Mirabeau  pauses  a  moment,  and,  in  a  honeyed  tone,  addressing 
the  most  furious,  says  : '  I  wait,  Monsieurs,  till  these  amenities  be 
exhausted.'  "e  A  man  enigmatic,  difficult  to  unmask !  For  ex- 
ample, whence  comes  his  money?  Can  the  profit  of  a  News- 
paper, sorely  eaten  into  by  Dame  Le  Jay ;  can  this,  and  the  eigh- 
teen francs  a-day  your  National  Deputy  has,  be  supposed  equal 
to  this  expenditure  ?  House  in  the  Chaussee  d'Antin  ;  Country- 
house  at  Argenteuil ;  splendors,  sumptuosities,  orgies  ; — living 
as  if  he  had  a  mint!  All  saloons,  barred  against  Adventurer 
Mirabeau,  are  flung  wide-open  to  King  Mirabeau.  the  cynosure 
of  Europe,  whom  female  France  flutters  to  behold, — though  the 
Man  Mirabeau  is  one  and  the  same.  As  for  money,  one  may-, 
conjecture  that  Royalism  furnishes  it ;  which  if  Royalism  do,  / 
will  not  the  same  be  welcome,  as  money  always  is  to  him  ?  J 

"  Sold,"  whatever  Patriotism  thinks,  he  cannot  readily  be :  the 
spiritual  fire  which  is  in  that  man ;  which  shining  through  such 
confusions  is  nevertheless  Conviction,  and  makes  him  strong, 

d  Moniteur,  Nos.  65,  86  (29th  September,  7th  November,  1789). 
e  Dumont,  Souvenirs,  p.  278. 


Dec.  1789]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  257 

and  without  which  he  had  no  strength, — is  not  buyable  nor  sala- 
ble ;  in  such  transference  of  barter,  it  would  vanish  and  not  be. 
Perhaps  "  paid  and  not  sold,  payc  pas  vcndu: "  as  poor  Rivarol, 
in  the  unhappier  converse  way,  calls  himself  "  sold  and  not 
paid !  "  A  man  travelling,  comet-like,  in  splendor  and  nebu- 
losity, his  wild  way ;  when  telescopic  Patriotism  may  long 
watch,  but,  without  higher  mathematics,  will  not  make  out.  Ar 
questionable,  most  blamable  man ;  yet  to  us  the  far  notablest  of 
all.  With  rich  munificence,  as  we  often  say,  in  a  most  blinkard, 
bespectacled,  logic-chopping  generation,  Nature  has  gifted  this 
man  with  an  eye.  Welcome  is  his  word,  there  where  he  speaks 
and  works ;  and  growing  ever  welcomer ;  for  it  alone  goes  to  the 
heart  of  the  business :  logical  cobwebbery  shrinks  itself  together ; 
and  thou  seest  a  thing,  how  it  is,  how  it  may  be  worked  with. 

Unhappily  our  National  Assembly  has  much  to  do :  a  France 
to  regenerate ;  and  France  is  short  of  so  many  requisites, 
short  even  of  cash.  These  same  Finances  give  trouble  enough ; 
no  choking  of  the  Deficit;  which  gapes  ever.  Give,  give!  To 
appease  the  Deficit  we  venture  on  a  hazardous  step,  sale  of 
the  Clergy's  Lands  and  superfluous  Edifices ;  most  hazardous. 
Nay,  given  the  sale,  who  is  to  buy  them,  ready-money  having 
fled?  Wherefore,  on  the  19th  day  of  December,  a  paper- 
money  of  "  Assignats,''  of  Bonds  secured,  or  assigned,  on  that 
Clerico-National  Property,  and  unquestionable  at  least  in 
payment  of  that, — is  decreed :  the  first  of  a  long  series  of 
like  financial  performances,  which  shall  astonish  mankind. 
So  that  now,  while  old  rags  last,  there  shall  be  no  lack  of 
circulating  medium :  whether  of  commodities  to  circulate 
thereon,  is  another  question.  But,  after  all,  does  not  this 
Assignat  business  speak  volumes  for  modern  science?  Bank- 
ruptcy, we  may  say,  was  come,  as  the  end  of  all  Delusions 
needs  must  come :  yet  how  gently,  in  softening  diffusion,  in 
mild  succession,  was  it  hereby  made  to  fall ; — like  no  all- 
destroying  avalanche ;  like  gentle  showers  of  a  powdery  im- 
palpable snow,  shower  after  shower,  till  all  was  indeed  buried, 
and  yet  little  was  destroyed  that  could  not  be  replaced,  be 
(lis]:>ensed  with !  To  such  length  has  modern  machinery 
reached.  Bankruptcy,  we  said,  was  great ;  but  indeed  Money 
itself  is  a  standing  miracle. 

On  the  whole,  it  is  a  matter  of  endless  difficulty,  that  of 
the   Clergy.     Clerical   property   may   be   made   the   Nation's, 
Vol.  I.— 17 


258  CARLYLE  [1789—96 

and  the  Clergy  hired  servants  of  the  State ;  but  if  so,  is  it 
not  an  altered  Church?  Adjustment  enough,  of  the  most  con- 
fused sort,  has  become  unavoidable.  Old  landmarks,  in  any 
sense,  avail  not  in  a  new  France.  Nay  literally,  the  very 
Ground  is  new  divided ;  your  old  particolored  Provinces  be- 
come new  uniform  Departments  Eighty-three  in  number; — 
whereby,  as  in  some  sudden  shifting  of  the  Earth's  axis,  no 
mortal  knows  his  new  latitude  at  once.  The  Twelve  old 
Parlements  too,  what  is  to  be  done  with  them?  The  old 
Parlements  are  declared  to  be  all  "  in  permanent  vacation," — 
till  once  the  new  equal-justice,  of  Departmental  Courts, 
National  Appeal-Court,  of  elective  Justices,  Justices  of  Peace, 
and  other  Thouret-and-Duport  apparatus  be  got  ready.  They 
have  to  sit  there,  these  old  Parlements,  uneasily  waiting;  as 
it  were,  with  the  rope  round  their  neck ;  crying  as  they  can. 
Is  there  none  to  deliver  us?  But  happily  the  answer  being, 
None,  none,  they  are  a  manageable  class,  these  Parlements. 
They  can  be  bullied,  even,  into  silence ;  the  Paris  Parlement, 
wiser  than  most,  has  never  whimpered.  They  will  and  must 
sit  there,  in  such  vacation  as  is  fit ;  their  Chamber  of  Vaca- 
tion distributes  in  the  interim  what  little  justice  is  going. 
With  the  rope  round  their  neck,  their  destiny  may  be  suc- 
cinct !  On  the  13th  of  November  1790,  Mayor  Bailly  shall  , 
walk  to  the  Palais  de  Justice,  few  even  heeding  him;  and 
with  municipal  seal  stamp  and  a  little  hot  wax,  seal  up  the 
Parlementary  Paper-rooms, — and  the  dread  Parlement  of  Paris 
pass  away,  into  Chaos,  gently  as  does  a  Dream !  So  shall  the 
Parlements  perish,  succinctly ;  and  innumerable  eyes  be  dry.  \ 
Not  so  the  Clergy.  For,  granting  even  that  Religion  were 
dead ;  that  it  had  died,  half-centuries  ago,  with  unutterable 
Dubois ;  or  emigrated  lately  to  Alsace,  with  Necklace-Cardinal 
Rohan ;  or  that  it  now  walked  as  goblin  revcnant,  with  Bishop 
Talleyrand  of  Autun ;  yet  does  not  the  Shadow  of  Religion, 
the  Cant  of  Religion,  still  linger?  The  Clergy  have  means 
and  material :  means,  of  number,  organization,  social  weight ; 
a  material,  at  lowest,  of  public  ignorance,  known  to  be  the 
mother  of  devotion.  Nay  withal,  is  it  incredible  that  there 
might,  in  simple  hearts,  latent  here  and  there  like  gold-grains 
in  the  mud-beach,  still  dwell  some  real  Faith  in  God,  of  so 
singular  and  tenacious  a  sort  that  even  a  Maury  or  a  Talley- 
rand could  still  be  the  symbol  for  it? — Enough,  the  Clergy 


1789—90]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  259 

has  strength,  the  Clergy  has  craft  and  indignation.  It  is  a  most 
fatal  business  this  of  the  Clergy.  A  weltering  hydra-coil, 
which  the  National  Assembly  has  stirred  up  about  its  ears ; 
hissing,  stinging;  which  cannot  be  appeased,  alive;  which 
cannot  be  trampled  dead !  Fatal,  from  first  to  last !  Scarcely 
after  fifteen  months'  debating,  can  a  Ciz'il  Constitution  of 
the  Clergy  be  so  much  as  got  to  paper ;  and  then  for  getting 
it  into  reality?  Alas,  such  Civil  Constitution  is  but  an  agree- 
ment to  disagree.  It  divides  France  from  end  to  end,  with  a 
new  split,  infinitely  complicating  all  the  other  splits : — Catholi- 
cism, what  of  it  there  is  left,  with  the  Cant  of  Catholicism, 
raging  on  the  one  side,  and  sceptic  Heathenism  on  the  other ; 
both,  by  contradiction,  waxing  fanatic.  What  endless  jarring, 
of  Refractory  hated  Priests,  and  Constitutional  despised  ones ; 
of  tender  consciences,  like  the  King's,  and  consciences  hot- 
seared,  like  certain  of  his  People's :  the  whole  to  end  in  Feasts 
of  Reason  and  a  War  of  La  Vendee !  So  deep-seated  is 
Religion  in  the  heart  of  man,  and  holds  of  all  infinite  pas- 
sions. If  the  dead  echo  of  it  still  did  so  much,  what  could  not 
the  living  voice  of  it  once  do? 

Finance  and  Constitution,  Law  and  Gospel :  this  surely 
were  work  enough ;  yet  this  is  not  all.  In  fact,  the  Ministry, 
and  Necker  himself,  whom  a  brass  inscription,  "  fastened  by 
the  people  over  his  door-lintel,"  testifies  to  be  the  "  Ministre 
adore  "  are  dwindling  into  clearer  and  clearer  nullity.  Execu- 
tion or  legislation,  arrangement  or  detail,  from  their  nerve- 
less fingers  all  drops  undone ;  all  lights  at  last  on  the  toiled 
shoulders  of  an  august  Representative  Body.  Heavy-laden 
National  Assembly !  It  has  to  hear  of  innumerable  fresh  re- 
volts. Brigand  expeditions ;  of  Chateaus  in  the  West,  espe- 
cially of  Charter-Chests,  Chartiers,  set  on  fire ;  for  there  too 
the  overloaded  Ass  frightfully  recalcitrates.  Of  Cities  in  the 
South  full  of  heats  and  jealousies ;  which  will  end  in  crossed 
sabres,  Marseilles  against  Toulon,  and  Carpentras  beleaguered 
by  Avignon ; — of  so  much  Royalist  collision  in  a  career  of 
Freedom ;  nay  of  Patriot  collision,  which  a  more  difiference 
of  velocity  will  bring  about !  Of  a  Jourdan  Coup-tete,  who 
has  skulked  thitherward,  to  those  southern  regions,  from  the 
claws  of  the  Chatclet ;  and  will  raise  whole  scoundrel  regiments. 

Also  it  has  to  hear  of  Royalist  Camp  of  Jalcs:  Jales,  moun- 
tain-girdled Plain,  amid  the  rocks  of  the  Cevennes ;    whence 


26o  CARLYLE  [1789—90 

Royalism,  as  is  feared  and  hoped,  may  dash  down  hke  a 
mountain  dekige,  and  submerge  France !  A  singular  thing 
this  Camp  of  Jales ;  existing  mostly  on  paper.  For  the 
Soldiers  at  Jales,  being  peasants  or  National  Guards,  were  in 
heart  sworn  Sansculottes;  and  all  that  the  Royalist  Captains 
could  do,  was,  with  false  words,  to  keep  them,  or  rather  keep 
the  report  of  them,  drawn  up  there,  visible  to  all  imagina- 
tions, for  a  terror  and  a  sign, — if  peradventure  France  might 
be  reconquered  by  theatrical  machinery,  by  the  picture  of  a 
Royalist  Army  done  to  the  life  !a  Not  till  the  third  summer 
was  this  portent,  burning  out  by  fits  and  then  fading,  got 
finally  extinguished ;  was  the  old  Castle  of  Jales,  no  Camp 
being  visible  to  the  bodily  eye,  got  blown  asunder  by  some 
National  Guards. 

Also  it  has  to  hear  not  only  of  Brissot  and  his  Friends  of 
the  Blacks,  but  by  and  by  of  a  whole  St.  Domingo  blazing 
skyward ;  blazing  in  literal  fire,  and  in  far  worse  metaphorical ; 
beaconing  the  nightly  main.  Also  of  the  shipping  interest, 
and  the  landed  interest,  and  all  manner  of  interests,  reduced 
to  distress.  Of  Industry  everywhere  manacled,  bewildered ; 
and  only  Rebellion  thriving.  Of  sub-officers,  soldiers  and 
sailors  in  mutiny  by  land  and  water.  Of  soldiers,  at  Nanci, 
as  we  shall  see,  needing  to  be  cannonaded  by  brave  Bouille. 
Of  sailors,  nay  the  very  galley-slaves,  at  Brest,  needing  also 
to  be  cannonaded,  but  with  no  Bouille  to  do  it.  For  indeed, 
to  say  it  in  a  word,  in  those  days  there  was  no  King  in 
Israel,  and  every  man  did  that  which  was  right  in  his  own 
eyes.^ 

Such  things  has  an  august  National  Assembly  to  hear  of, 
as  it  goes  on  regenerating  France.  Sad  and  stern:  but  what 
remedy  ?  Get  the  Constitution  ready ;  and  all  men  will  swear 
to  it :  for  do  not  "  Addresses  of  adhesion  "  arrive  by  the  cart- 
load? In  this  manner,  by  Heaven's  blessing,  and  a  Constitu- 
tion got  ready,  shall  the  bottomless  fire-gulf  be  vaulted  in, 
with  rag-paper ;  and  Order  will  wed  Freedom,  and  live  with 
her  there, — till  it  grow  too  hot  for  them.  O  Cote  Gauche,  worthy 
are  ye,  as  the  adhesive  Addresses  generally  say,  to  "  fix  the 

a  Dampmartin,  Evencmens,  i.  208. 

b  See  Deux  Amis,  iii.  c.  14;  iv.  c.  2,  3,  4,  7,  9,  T4.  EA-^edition  des 
Volontaircs  dc  Brest  sur  Lannion;  Les  Lyounais  Sanveurs  des  Daii- 
phinois;  Massacre  au  Mans;  Troubles  du  Maine  (Pamphlets  and  Ex- 
cerpts, in  Hist.  Pari.  iii.  251;  iv.  162-168),  &c. 


1789—90]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  261 

regards  of  the  Universe ;"  the  regards  of  this  one  poor  Planet, 
at  lowest ! — 

Nay,  it  must  be  owned,  the  Cote  Droit  makes  a  still  madder 
figure.  An  irrational  generation ;  irrational,  imbecile,  and  with 
the  vehement  obstinacy  characteristic  of  that ;  a  generation 
which  will  not  learn.  Falling  Bastilles,  Insurrections  of 
Women,  thousands  of  smoking  Manorhouses,  a  country  brist- 
ling with  no  crop  but  that  of  Sansculottic  steel:  these  were 
tolerably  didactic  lessons ;  but  them  they  have  not  taught. 
There  are  still  men,  of  whom  it  was  of  old  written,  Bray 
them  in  a  mortar !  Or,  in  milder  language.  They  have  zveddcd 
their  delusions:  fire  nor  steel,  nor  any  sharpness  of  Experi- 
ence, shall  sever  the  bond ;  till  death  do  us  part !  On  such 
may  the  Heavens  have  mercy ;  for  the  Earth,  with  her  rigorous 
Necessity,  will  have  none. 

Admit,  at  the  same  time,  that  it  was  most  natural.  Man 
lives  by  Hope:  Pandora,  when  her  box  of  gods'-gifts  flew  all 
out,  and  became  gods'-curses,  still  retained  Hope.  How  shall 
an  irrational  mortal,  when  his  highplace  is  never  so  evidently 
pulled  down,  and  he,  being  irrational,  is  left  resourceless,  part 
with  the  belief  that  it  will  be  rebuilt?  It  would  make  all  so 
straight  again ;  it  seems  so  unspeakably  desirable ;  so  reason- 
able,— would  you  but  look  at  it  aright !  For,  must  not  the 
thing  which  was  continue  to  be ;  or  else  the  solid  World  dis- 
solve ?  Yes,  persist,  O  infatuated  Sansculottes  of  France  !  Re- 
volt against  constituted  Authorities ;  hunt  out  your  rightful 
Seigneurs,  who  at  bottom  so  loved  you,  and  readily  shed  their 
blood  for  you, — in  country's  battles  as  at  Rossbach  and  else- 
where ;  and,  even  in  preserving  game,  were  preserving  you, 
could  ye  but  have  understood  it:  hunt  them  out,  as  if  they 
were  wild  wolves ;  set  fire  to  their  Chateaus  and  Chartiers  as 
to  wolf-dens;  and  what  then?  Why,  then  turn  every  man  his 
hand  against  his  fellow !  In  confusion,  famine,  desolation, 
regret  the  days  that  are  gone ;  ruefully  recall  them,  recall  us 
with  them.     To  repentant  prayers  we  will  not  be  deaf. 

So,  with  dimmer  or  clearer  consciousness,  must  the  Right 
Side  reason  and  act.  An  inevitable  position  perhaps ;  but  a 
most  false  one  for  them.  Evil,  be  thou  our  good:  this  hence- 
forth must  virtually  be  their  prayer.  The  fiercer  the  eflferves- 
cence  grows,  the  sooner  will  it  pass;  for.  after  all,  it  is  but 
some  mad  effervescence ;  the  World  is  solid,  and  cannot  dis- 
solve. 


262  CARLYLE  [1789—90 

For  the  rest,  if  they  have  any  positive  industry,  it  is  that 
of  plots,  and  backstairs  conclaves.  Plots  which  cannot  be 
executed ;  which  are  mostly  theoretic  on  their  part ; — for 
which  nevertheless  this  and  the  other  practical  Sieur  Augeard, 
Sieur  Maillebois,  Sieur  Bonne  Savardin,  gets  into  trouble, 
gets  imprisoned,  and  escapes  with  difficulty.  Nay  there  is  a 
poor  practical  Chevalier  Favras,  who,  not  without  some  pass- 
ing reflex  on  Monsieur  himself,  gets  hanged  for  them,  amid 
loud  uproar  of  the  world.  Poor  Favras,  he  keeps  dictating 
his  last  wall  "  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  through  the  whole 
remainder  of  the  day,"  a  weary  February  day ;  offers  to  reveal 
secrets,  if  they  will  save  him ;  handsomely  declines  since  they 
will  not ;  then  dies,  in  the  flare  of  torchlight,  with  politest 
composure ;  remarking,  rather  than  exclaiming,  with  out- 
spread hands :  "  People,  I  die  innocent ;  pray  for  me."<^  Poor 
Favras ; — type  of  so  much  that  has  prowled  indefatigable  over 
France,  in  days  now  ending;  and,  in  freer  field,  might  have 
earned  instead  of  prowling, — to  thee  it  is  no  theory ! 

In  the  Senate-house  again,  the  attitude  of  the  Right  Side 
is  that  of  calm  unbelief.  Let  an  august  National  Assembly 
make  a  Fourth-of- August  Abolition  of  Feudality ;  declare  the 
Clergy  State-servants,  who  shall  have  wages ;  vote  Suspensive 
Vetos,  new  Law-Courts ;  vote  or  decree  what  contested  thing 
it  will ;  have  it  responded  to  from  the  four  corners  of  France, 
nay  get  King's  Sanction,  and  wdiat  other  Acceptance  were 
conceivable, — the  Right  Side,  as  we  find,  persists,  with  im- 
perturbablest  tenacity,  in  considering,  and  ever  and  anon 
shows  that  it  still  considers,  all  these  so-called  Decrees  as 
mere  temporary  whims,  which  indeed  stand  on  paper,  but  in 
practice  and  fact  are  not,  and  cannot  be.  Figure  the  brass 
head  of  an  Abbe  Maury  flooding  forth  Jesuitic  eloquence  in 
this  strain ;  dusky  D'Espremenil,  Barrel  Mirabcau  (probably 
in  liquor),  and  enough  of  others,  cheering  him  from  the  Right ; 
and,  for  example,  with  what  visage  a  seagreen  Robespierre 
eyes  him  from  the  Left.  And  how  Sieyes  ineffably  sniffs  on 
him,  or  does  not  deign  to  sniff;  and  how  the  Galleries  groan 
in  spirit,  or  bark  rabid  on  him ;  so  that  to  escape  the  Lan- 
terne,  on  stepping  forth,  he  needs  presence  of  mind,  and  a 
pair  of  pistols  in  his  girdle!  For  he  is  one  of  the  toughest 
of  men. 

c  See  Deux  Amis,  iv.  c.  14,  7;  Hist.  Pari.  vi.  384. 


1789—90]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  263 

Here  indeed  becomes  notable  one  great  difference  between 
our  two  kinds  of  civil  war ;  between  the  modern  lingual  or 
Parliamentary-logical  kind,  and  the  ancient  or  manual  kind 
in  the  steel  battlefield; — so  much  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
former.  In  the  manual  kind,  where  you  front  you  foe  with 
drawn  weapon,  one  right  stroke  is  final ;  for,  physically  speak- 
ing, when  the  brains  are  out  the  man  does  honestly  die,  and 
trouble  you  no  more.  But  how  different  when  it  is  with 
arguments  you  fight !  Here  no  victory  yet  definable  can  be 
considered  as  final.  Beat  him  down  with  Parliamentary  in- 
vective, till  sense  be  fled ;  cut  him  in  two,  hanging  one  half 
on  this  dilemma-horn,  the  other  on  that ;  blow  the  brains  or 
thinking-faculty  quite  out  of  him  for  the  time :  it  skills  not ; 
he  rallies  and  revives  on  the  morrow ;  to-morrow  he  repairs 
his  golden  fires !  The  thing  that  zvill  logically  extinguish  him 
is  perhaps  still  a  desideratum  in  Constitutional  civilization. 
For  how,  till  a  man  know,  in  some  measure,  at  what  point 
he  becomes  logically  defunct,  can  Parliamentary  Business  be 
carried  on,  and  Talk  cease  or  slake? 

Doubtless  it  was  some  feeling  of  this  difficulty ;  and  the 
clear  insight  how  little  such  knowledge  yet  existed  in  the 
French  Nation,  new  in  the  Constitutional  career,  and  how 
defunct  Aristocrats  would  continue  to  w^alk  for  unlimited 
periods,  as  Partridge  the  Almanac-maker  did, — that  had  sunk 
into  the  deep  mind  of  People's-friend  Marat,  an  eminently 
practical  mind ;  and  had  grown  there,  in  that  richest  putres- 
cent soil,  into  the  most  original  plan  of  action  ever  submitted 
to  a  People.  Not  yet  has  it  grown ;  but  it  has  germinated, 
it  is  growing;  rooting  itself  into  Tartarus,  branching  towards 
Heaven:  the  second  season  hence,  we  shall  see  it  risen  out 
of  the  bottomless  Darkness,  full-grown,  into  disastrous  Twi- 
light,— a  Hemlock-tree,  great  as  the  world ;  on  or  under  whose 
boughs  all  the  People's-fricnds  of  the  world  may  lodge.  "  Two 
hundred  and  Sixty  thousand  Aristocrat  heads :  "  that  is  the 
precisest  calculation,  though  one  would  not  stand  on  a  few 
hundreds ;  yet  we  never  rise  as  high  as  the  round  Three  hun- 
dred thousand.  Shudder  at  it,  O  People ;  but  it  is  as  true  as 
that  ye  yourselves,  and  your  People's-friend,  are  alive.  These 
prating  Senators  of  yours  hover  ineffectual  on  the  barren 
letter,  and  will  never  save  the  Revolution.  A  Cassandra- 
Marat  cannot  do  it,  with  his  single  shrunk  arm ;    but  with  a 


264  CARLYLE  [1789-90 

few  determined  men  it  were  possible.  "  Give  me,"  said  the 
People's-friend,  in  his  cold  way,  when  young  Barbaroux, 
once  his  pupil  in  a  course  of  what  was  called  Optics,  went 
to  see  him,  "  Give  me  two  hundred  Naples  Bravoes,  armed 
each  with  a  good  dirk,  and  a  muff  on  his  left  arm  by  way 
of  shield:  with  them  I  will  traverse  France,  and  accomplish 
the  Revolution. "a  Nay,  be  brave,  young  Barbaroux;  for 
thou  seest  there  is  no  jesting  in  those  rheumy  eyes,  in  that 
soot-bleared  figure,  most  earnest  of  created  things;  neither 
indeed  is  there  madness,  of  the  strait-waistcoat  sort. 

Such  produce  shall  the  Time  ripen  in  cavernous  Marat,  the 
man  forbid ;  living  in  Paris  cellars,  lone  as  fanatic  Anchorite 
in  his  Thebaid ;  say,  as  far-seen  Simon  on  his  Pillar, — taking 
peculiar  views  therefrom.  Patriots  may  smile ;  and,  using 
him  as  bandog  now  to  be  muzzled,  now  to  be  let  bark,  name 
him,  as  Desmoulins  does  "  Maximum  of  Patriotism "  and 
"  Cassandra-Marat :"  but  were  it  not  singular  if  this  dirk- 
and-muff  plan  of  his  (with  superficial  modifications)  proved 
to  be  precisely  the  plan  adopted? 

After  this  manner,  in  these  circumstances,  do  august  Sena- 
tors regenerate  France.  Nay,  they  are,  in  very  deed,  believed 
to  be  regenerating  it ;  on  account  of  which  great  fact,  main 
fact  of  their  history,  the  wearied  eye  can  never  be  permitted 
wholly  to  ignore  them. 

But,  looking  away  now  from  these  precincts  of  the  Tuile- 
ries,  where  Constitutional  Royalty,  let  Lafayette  water  it  as 
he  will,  languishes  too  like  a  cut  branch ;  and  august  Senators 
are  perhaps  at  bottom  only  perfecting  their  "  theory  of  defec- 
tive verbs," — ^how  does  the  yotmg  Reality,  young  Sansculottism 
thrive  ?  The  attentive  observer  can  answer :  It  thrives  bravely ; 
putting  forth  new  buds ;  expanding  the  old  buds  into  leaves, 
into  boughs.  Is  not  French  Existence,  as  before,  most  pru- 
rient, all  loosened,  most  nutrient  for  it?  Sansculottism  has 
the  property  of  growing  by  what  other  things  die  of:  by 
agitation,  contention,  disarrangement;  nay  in  a  word,  by 
what  is  the  symbol  and  fruit  of  all  these:    Hunger. 

In  such  a  France  as  this,  Hunger,  as  we  have  remarked, 

can  hardly  fail.    The  Provinces,  the  Southern  Cities  feel  it  in 

their  turn ;    and  what  it  brings :    Exasperation,  preternatural 

Suspicion.     In  Paris  some  halcyon  days  of  abundance   fol- 

aMemoircs  dc  Barbaroux  (Paris,  1822),  p.  57. 


October  2ist]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  265 

lowed  the  Menaclic  Insurrection,  with  its  Versailles  grain- 
carts,  and  recovered  Restorer  of  Liberty ;  but  they  could  not 
continue.  The  month  is  still  October,  when  famishing  Saint- 
Antoine,  in  a  moment  of  passion,  seizes  a  poor  Baker,  in- 
nocent "  Frangois  the  Baker  ;"ft  and  hangs  him,  in  Constan- 
tinople wise ; — but  even  this,  singular  as  it  may  seem,  does 
not  cheapen  bread !  Too  clear  it  is,  no  Royal  bounty,  no 
Municipal  dexterity  can  adequately  feed  a  Bastille-destroying 
Paris.  Wherefore,  on  view  of  the  hanged  Baker,  Constitu- 
tionalism in  sorrow  and  anger  demands  "  Loi  Martiale,"  a  kind 
of  Riot  Act ; — and  indeed  gets  it  most  readily,  almost  before 
the  sun  goes  down. 

This  is  that  famed  Martial  Law,  with  its  Red  Flag,  its 
"  Drapcan  Rouge,"  in  virtue  of  which  Mayor  Bailly,  or  any 
Mayor,  has  but  henceforth  to  hang  out  that  new  Oriflamme 
of  his ;  then  to  read  or  mumble  something  about  the  King's 
peace ;  and,  after  certain  pauses,  serve  any  undispersing  As- 
semblage with  musket-shot,  or  whatever  shot  will  disperse 
it.  A  decisive  Law;  and  most  just  on  one  proviso:  that  all 
Patrollotism  be  of  God,  and  all  mob-assembling  be  of  the 
Devil; — otherwise  not  so  just.  Mayor  Bailly,  be  unwilling  to 
use  it!  Hang  not  out  that  new  Oriflamme,  flame  not  of  gold 
but  of  the  want  of  gold!  The  thrice-blessed  Revolution  is 
done,  thou  thinkest?     If  so,  it  will  be  well  with  thee. 

But  now  let  no  mortal  say  henceforth  that  an  august  Na- 
tional Assembly  wants  riot :  all  it  ever  wanted  was  riot  enough 
to  balance  Court-plotting;  all  it  now  wants,  of  Heaven  or  of 
Earth,  is  to  get  its  theory  of  defective  verbs  perfected. 


Chapter  IIL— The  Muster. 

With  famine  and  a  Constitutional  theory  of  defective  verbs -1 
going  on,  all  other  excitement  is  conceivable.     A   universal 
shaking  and  sifting  of  French  Existence  this  is:   in  the  course 
of  which,  for  one  thing,  what  a  multitude  of  low-lying  figures 
are  sifted  to  the  top,  and  set  busily  to  work  there ! 

Dogleech  Marat,  now  far-seen  as  Simon  Stylites,  we  already 
know ;  him  and  others,  raised  aloft.  The  mere  sample  these 
of  what  is  coming,  of  what  continues  coming,  upwards  from 

621st  October  1789  {Monitcur,  No.  76). 


2  66  CARLYLE  [1789-90 

the  realm  of  Night! — Chaumette,  by  and  by  Anaxagoras 
Chaumette,  one  already  descries :  meUifluous  in  street-groups ; 
not  now  a  seaboy  on  the  high  and  giddy  mast:  a  meUifluous 
tribune  of  the  common  people,  with  long  curling  locks,  on 
bournestone.  of  the  thoroughfares;  able  sub-editor  too;  who 
shall  rise, — to  the  very  gallows.  Clerk  Tallien,  he  also  is 
become  sub-editor;  shall  become  able-editor;  and  more.  Bib- 
liopolic  Momoro,  Typographic  Prudhomme  see  new  trades 
opening.  Collot  d'Herbois,  tearing  a  passion  to  rags,  pauses 
on  the  Thespian  boards;  listens,  with  that  black  bushy  head, 
to  the  sound  of  the  world's  drama:  shall  the  Mimetic  become 
Real?  Did  ye  hiss  him,  O  men  of  Lyons ?c  Better  had  ye 
clapped ! 

Happy  now,  indeed,  for  all  manner  of  mimetic,  half -original 
men !  Tumid  blustering,  with  more  or  less  of  sincerity,  which 
need  not  be  entirely  sincere,  yet  the  sincerer  the  better,  is  like 
to  go  far.  Shall  we  say,  the  Revolutioni-element  works  itself 
rarer  and  rarer;  so  that  only  lighter  and  lighter  bodies  will 
float  in  it;  till  at  last  the  mere  blown-bladder  is  your  only 
swimmer?  Limitation  of  mind,  then  vehemence,  prompti- 
tude, audacity,  shall  all  be  available;  to  which  add  only  these 
two :  cunning  and  good  lungs.  Good  fortune  must  be  presup- 
posed. Accordingly,  of  all  classes  the  rising  one,  we  observe, 
is  now  the  Attorney  class :  witness  Bazires,  Carriers,  Fouquier- 
Tinvilles,  Basoche-Captain  Bourdons:  more  than  enough. 
Such  figures  shall  Night,  from  her  wonder-bearing  bosom, 
emit ;  swarm  after  swarm.  Of  another  deeper  and  deepest 
swarm,  not  yet  dawned  on  the  astonished  eye ;  of  pilfering 
Candle-snuffers,  Thief-valets,  disfrocked  Capuchins,  and  so 
many  Heberts,  Henriots,  Ronsins,  Rossignols,  let  us,  as  long 
as  possible,  forbear  speaking. 

Thus,  over  France,  all  stirs  that  has  what  the  Physiologists 
call  irritabiliiy  in  it:  how  much  more  all  wherein  irritability 
has  perfected  itself  into  vitality,  into  actual  vision,  and  force 
that  can  will!  All  stirs;  and  if  not  in  Paris,  flocks  thither. 
Great  and  greater  waxes  President  Danton  in  his  Cordeliers 
Section  ;  his  rhetorical  tropes  are  all  "  gigantic :  "  energy  flashes 
from  his  black  brows,  menaces  in  his  athletic  figure,  rolls  in 
the  sound  of  his  voice  "reverberating  from  the  domes:"  this 
man  also,  like  Mirabeau,  has  a  natural  eye,  and  begins  to  see 
c  Buzot,  Mcmoircs  (Paris,  1823),  p.  90. 


1789—90]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  267 

whither  ConstitutionaHsm  is  tending,  though  with  a  wish  in  it 
different  from  Mirabeau's. 

Remark,  on  the  other  hand,  how  General  Dumouriez  has 
quitted  Normandy  and  the  Cherbourg  Breakwater,  to  come — 
whither  we  may  guess.  It  is  his  second  or  even  third  trial  at 
Paris,  since  this  New  Era  began  ;  but  now  it  is  in  right  earnest, 
for  he  has  quitted  all  else.  Wiry,  elastic,  unwearied  man; 
whose  life  w-as  but  a  battle  and  a  march!  No,  not  a  creature 
of  Choiseul's ;  "  the  creature  of  God  and  of  my  sword," — he 
fiercely  answered  in  old  days.  Overfalling  Corsican  batteries,^ . 
in  the  deadly  fire-hail ;  wriggling  invincible  from  under  his 
horse,  at  Closterkamp  of  the  Netherlands,  though  tethered 
with  "  crushed  stirrup-iron  and  nineteen  wounds ;  "  tough, 
minatory,  standing  at  bay,  as  forlorn  hope,  on  the  skirts  of 
Poland ;  intriguing,  battling  in  cabinet  and  field ;  roaming 
far  out,  obscure,  as  King's  spial,  or  sitting  sealed  up,  enchanted 
in  Bastille ;  fencing,  pamphleteering,  scheming  and  struggling 
from  the  very  birth  of  h\m,d — the  man  has  come  thus  far. 
How  repressed,  how  irrepressible !  Like  some  incarnate  spirit 
in  prison,  which  indeed  he  zvas;  hewing  on  granite  walls  for 
deliverance ;  striking  fire-flashes  from  them.  And  now  has  the 
general  earthquake  rent  his  cavern  too  ?  Twenty  years  younger, 
what  might  he  not  have  done !  But  his  hair  has  a  shade  of 
gray ;  his  way  of  thought  is  all  fixed,  military.  He  can  grow 
no  further,  and  the  new  world  is  in  such  growth.  We  will 
name  him,  on  the  whole,  one  of  Heaven's  Swiss ;  without 
faith ;  wanting  above  all  things  work,  work  on  any  side.  Work 
also  is  appointed  him ;    and  he  will  do  it. 

Not  from  over  France  only  are  the  unrestful  flocking  to- 
wards Paris ;  but  from  all  sides  of  Europe.  Where  the  car- 
cass is,  thither  will  the  eagles  gather.  Think  how  many  a 
Spanish  Guzman,  Martinico  Fournier  named  "  Fournicr 
I' Americain,"  Engineer  Miranda  from  the  very  Andes,  were 
flocking  or  had  flocked.  Walloon  Pcreyra  might  boast  of  the 
strangest  parentage:  him,  they  say.  Prince  Kaunitz  the  Diplo- 
matist heedlessly  dropped ;  like  ostrich-egg,  to  be  hatched  of 
Chance, — into  an  ostrich-ra^rr/  Jewish  or  German  Freys  do 
business  in  the  great  Cesspool  of  Agio;  which  Cesspool  this 
Assignat-fvdii  has  quickened,  into  a  Mother  of  dead  dogs. 
Swiss  Claviere  could  found  no  Socinian  Gcnevese  Colony  in 
d  Dumouriez,  Memoires,  i.  28,  &c. 


268  CARLYLE  [1789—90 

Ireland ;  but  he  paused,  years  ago,  prophetic,  before  the  Minis- 
ter's Hotel  at  Paris ;  and  said,  it  was  borne  on  his  mind  that 
he  one  day  was  to  be  Minister,  and  laughed.^  Swiss  Pache, 
on  the  other  hand,  sits  sleekheaded,  frugal ;  the  wonder  of  his 
own  alley,  and  even  of  neighboring  ones,  for  humility  of  mind, 
and  a  thought  deeper  than  most  men's :  sit  there,  Tartuffe, 
till  wanted !  Ye  Italian  Dufournys,  Flemish  Prolys,  flit  hither 
all  ye  bipeds  of  prey !  Come  whosesoever  head  is  hot ;  thou  of 
mind  nngoverned,  be  it  chaos  as  of  undevelopment  or  chaos 
as  of  ruin ;  the  man  who  cannot  get  known,  the  man  who  is 
too  well  known ;  if  thou  have  any  vendible  faculty,  nay  if 
thou  have  but  edacity  and  loquacity,  come !  They  come ;  with 
hot  unutterabilities  in  their  heart ;  as  Pilgrims  towards  a 
miraculous  shrine.  Nay  how  many  come  as  vacant  Strollers, 
aimless,  of  whom  Europe  is  full,  merely  towards  something! 
For  benighted  fowls,  when  you  beat  their  bushes,  rush  to- 
wards any  light.  Thus  Frederick  Baron  Trenck  too  is  here ; 
mazed,  purblind,  from  the  cells  of  Magdeburg;  Minotauric 
cells,  and  his  Ariadne  lost !  Singular  to  say,  Trenck,  in  these 
years,  sells  wine ;    not  indeed  in  bottle,  but  in  wood. 

Nor  is  our  England  without  her  missionaries.  She  has 
her  life-saving  Needham  /  to  whom  was  solemnly  presented 
a  "  civic  sword," — long  since  rusted  into  nothingness.  Her 
Paine :  rebellious  Staymaker ;  unkempt ;  who  feels  that  he, 
a  single  Needleman,  did,  by  his  Common-Sense  Pamphlet,  free 
America ; — that  he  can  and  will  free  all  this  World ;  perhaps 
even  the  other.  Price-Stanhope  Constitutional  Association 
sends  over  to  congratulate  •,g  welcomed  by  National  Assembly, 
though  they  are  but  a  London  Club ;  whom  Burke  and  Tory- 
ism eye  askance. 

On  thee  too,  for  country's  sake,  O  Chevalier  John  Paul,  be 
a  word  spent,  or  misspent !  In  faded  naval  uniform,  Paul 
Jones  lingers  visible  here ;  like  a  wineskin  from  which  the 
wine  is  all  drawn.     Like  the  ghost  of  himself!     Low  is  his 

e  Dumont,  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  p.  399. 

f  A  trustworthy  gentleman  writes  to  me,  three  years  ago.  with  a  feel- 
ing which  I  cannot  hut  respect,  that  his  Fatlicr,  "  thc_  late  Admiral 
Nesham  "  (not  Ncrdhaiu,  as  the  French  Journalists  give  it)  is  the  Eng- 
lishman meant;  and  furthermore  that  the  sword  is  "not  rusted  at  all," 
but  still  lies,  with  the  due  memory  attached  to  it,  in  his  (the  son's) 
possession,  at  Plymouth,  in  a  clear  state.     (Note  of  1857.) 

g  Monitcur,  10  Novembre,  7  Dccembre,  1789. 


1789-90]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  269 

once  loud  bruit ;  scarcely  audible,  save,  with  extreme  tedium, 
in  ministerial  antechambers,  in  this  or  the  other  charitable 
dining-room,  mindful  of  the  past.  What  changes ;  culminat- 
ings  and  declinings !  Not  now,  poor  Paul,  thou  lookest  wist- 
ful over  the  Solway  brine,  by  the  foot  of  native  Crififel,  into 
blue  mountainous  Cumberland,  into  blue  Infinitude ;  environed 
with  thrift,  with  humble  friendliness ;  thyself,  young  fool, 
longing  to  be  aloft  from  it,  or  even  to  be  away  from  it.  Yes, 
beyond  that  sapphire  Promontory,  which  men  name  St.  Bees, 
which  is  not  sapphire  either,  but  dull  sandstone,  when  one 
gets  close  to  it,  there  is  a  world.  Which  world  thou  too  shalt 
taste  of ! — From  yonder  White  Haven  rise  his  smoke-clouds ; 
ominous  though  ineffectual.  Proud  Forth  quakes  at  his  belly- 
ing sails ;  had  not  the  wind  suddenly  shifted.  Flamborough 
reapers,  homegoing,  pause  on  the  hill-side :  for  what  sulphur- 
cloud  is  that  that  defaces  the  sleek  sea ;  sulphur-cloud  spitting 
streaks  of  fire?  A  sea  cock-fight  it  is,  and  of  the  hottest; 
where  British  Serapis  and  French-American  Bonne  Homme 
Richard  do  lash  and  throttle  each  other,  in  their  fashion ;  and 
lo  the  desperate  valor  has  suffocated  the  deliberate,  and  Paul 
Jones  too  is  of  the  Kings  of  the  Sea ! 

The  Euxine,  the  Meotian  waters  felt  thee  next,  and  long- 
skirted  Turks,  O  Paul ;  and  thy  fiery  soul  has  wasted  itself  in 
thousand  contradictions ; — to  no  purpose.  For,  in  far  lands, 
with  scarlet  Nassau-Siegens,  with  sinful  Imperial  Catherines, 
is  not  the  heart  broken,  even  as  at  home  with  the  mean? 
Poor  Paul !  hunger  and  dispiritment  track  thy  sinking  foot- 
steps :  once,  or  at  most  twice,  in  this  Revolution-tumult  the 
figure  of  thee  emerges ;  mute,  ghostlike,  as  "  with  stars  dim- 
twinkling  through."  And  then,  when  the  light  is  gone  quite 
out,  a  National  Legislature  grants  "  ceremonial  funeral  " ! 
As  good  had  been  the  natural  Presbyterian  Kirk-bell,  and 
six  feet  of  Scottish  earth,  among  the  dust  of  thy  loved  ones. 
— Such  world  lay  beyond  the  Promontory  of  St.  Bees.  Such 
is  the  life  of  sinful  mankind  here  below. 

But  of  all  strangers  far  the  notablcst  for  us  is  Baron  Jean 
Baptiste  de  Clootz ; — or,  dropping  baptisms  and  feudalisms, 
World-Citizen  Anacharsis  Clootz,  from  Cleves.  Him  mark, 
judicious  Reader.  Thou  hast  known  his  uncle,  sharp-sighted, 
thorough-going  Cornelius  de  Pauw,  who  mercilessly  cuts  down 
cherished   illusions ;    and   of  the  finest  antique   vSpartans   will 


270  CARLYLE  [1789—90 

make  mere  modern  cutthroat  Mainots.^J  The  Hke  stuff  is  in 
Anacharsis :  hot  metal ;  full  of  scoriae,  which  should  and 
could  have  been  smelted  out,  but  which  will  not.  He  has 
wandered  over  this  terraqueous  Planet ;  seeking,  one  may  say, 
the  Paradise  we  lost  long  ago.  He  has  seen  English  Burke; 
has  been  seen  of  the  Portugal  Inquisition ;  has  roamed,  and 
fought,  and  written ;  is  writing,  among  other  things,  "  Evi- 
dences of  the  Mahometan  Religion."  But  now,  like  his 
Scythian  adoptive  godfather,  he  finds  himself  in  the  Paris 
Athens;  surely,  at  last,  the  haven  of  his  soul.  A  dashing 
man,  beloved  at  Patriotic  dinner-tables ;  with  gaiety,  nay  with 
humor;  headlong,  trenchant,  of  free  purse;  in  suitable  cos- 
tume ;  though  what  mortal  ever  more  despised  costumes  ? 
Under  all  costumes  Anacharsis  seeks  the  man ;  not  Stylites 
Marat  will  more  freely  trample  costumes,  if  they  hold  no 
man.  This  is  the  faith  of  Anacharsis :  That  there  is  a  Para- 
dise discoverable ;  that  all  costumes  ought  to  hold  men.  O 
Anacharsis,  it  is  a  headlong,  swift-going  faith.  Mounted 
thereon,  meseems,  thou  art  bound  hastily  for  the  City  of  No- 
where; and  wilt  arrive!  At  best,  we  may  say,  arrive  in  good 
riding  attitude;   which  indeed  is  something. 

So  many  new  persons  and  new  things  have  come  to 
occupy  this  France.  Her  old  Speech  and  Thought,  and  Ac- 
tivity which  springs  from  these,  are  all  changing;  ferment- 
ing towards  unknown  issues.  To  the  dullest  peasant,  as  he 
sits  sluggish,  overtoiled,  by  his  evening  hearth,  one  idea  has 
come :  that  of  Chateaus  burnt ;  of  Chateaus  combustible.  How 
altered  all  Coffeehouses,  in  Province  or  Capital !  The  Autre 
de  Procope  has  now  other  questions  than  the  Three  Stagyrite 
Unities  to  settle ;  not  theatre-controversies,  but  a  world-con- 
troversy: there,  in  the  ancient  pigtail  mode,  or  with  modern 
Brutus'  heads,  do  well-frizzed  logicians  hold  hubbub,  and 
Chaos  umpire  sits.  The  ever-enduring  melody  of  Paris  Saloons 
has  got  a  new  ground-tone :  ever-enduring ;  which  has  been 
heard,  and  by  the  listening  Heaven  too,  since  Julian  the  Apos- 
tate's time  and  earlier ;    mad  now  as  formerly. 

Ex-Censor  Suard,  iiA'-Censor,  for  we  have  freedom  of  the 

Press ;  he  may  be  seen  there ;   impartial,  even  neutral.    Tyrant 

Grimm   rolls  large   eyes,   over   a   questionable   coming  Time. 

Atheist   Naigeon,  beloved-disciple   of  Diderot,   crows,   in   his 

h  De  Pauw,  Recherches  stir  les  Crecs,  &c. 


1789-90J  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  271 

small  difficult  way,  heralding  glad  dawn.'  But  on  the  other 
hand,  how  many  Morellets,  Marmontels,  who  had  sat  all  their 
life  hatching  Philosophe  eggs,  cackle  now,  in  a  state  border- 
ing on  distraction,  at  the  brood  they  have  brought  out  \j  It 
was  so  delightful  to  have  one's  Philosophe  Theorem  demon- 
strated, crowned  in  the  saloons :  and  now  an  infatuated  people 
will  not  continue  speculative,  but  have   Practice ! 

There  also  observe  Preceptress  Genlis,  or  Sillery,  or  Sillery- 
Genlis, — for  our  husband  is  both  Count  and  Marquis,  and  we 
have  more  than  one  title.  Pretentious,  frothy ;  a  puritan  yet 
creedless  ;  darkening  counsel  by  words  without  wisdom  !  For, 
it  is  in  that  thin  element  of  the  Sentimentalist  and  Distin- 
guished-Female that  Sillery-Genlis  works ;  she  would  gladly 
be  sincere,  yet  can  grow  no  sincerer  than  sincere-cant :  sin- 
cere-cant of  many  forms,  ending  in  the  devotional  form.  For 
the  present,  on  a  neck  still  of  moderate  whiteness,  she  wears 
as  jewel  a  miniature  Bastille,  cut  on  mere  sandstone,  but 
then  actual  Bastille  sandstone.  M.  le  Marquis  is  one  of  D'Or- 
leans's  errand-men ;  in  National  Assembly,  and  elsewhere. 
Madame,  for  her  part,  trains  up  a  youthful  D'Orleans  gen- 
eration in  what  superfinest  morality  one  can ;  gives  meanwhile 
rather  enigmatic  account  of  fair  Mademoiselle  Pamela,  the 
Daughter  whom  she  has  adopted.  Thus  she,  in  Palais-Royal 
Saloon ; — whither,  we  remark,  D'Orleans  himself,  spite  of  La- 
fayette, has  returned  from  that  English  "mission"  of  his: 
surely  no  pleasant  mission :  for  the  English  would  not  speak 
to  him ;  and  Saint  Hannah  More  of  England,  so  unlike  Saint 
Sillery-Genlis  of  France,  saw  him  shunned,  in  Vauxhall  Gar- 
dens, like  one  peststruck,/v'  and  his  red-blue  impassive  visage 
waxing  hardly  a  shade  blvier. 

Chapter  IV. — Journalism. 

As  for  Constitutionalism,  with  its  National  Guards,  it  is 
doing  what  it  can;  and  has  enough  to  do:  it  must,  as  ever, 
with  one  hand  wave  persuasively,  repressing  Patriotism ;  and 
keep  the  other  clenched  to  menace  Royalist  plotters.  A  most 
delicate  task  ;   requiring  tact.  -{ 

t  Naigeon,   Adresse  a   I'Assemblec   Nationale    (Paris,    1790),   sur   la 
liberie  dcs  opinions. 

j  See  MariTKmtel,  Memoires,  passim;  Morellet,  Memoires,  &c. 
k  Hannah  More's  Life  and  Correspondence,  ii.  c.  5. 


272  CARLYLE  [1789—90 

Thus,  if  People's-friend  Marat  has  to-day  his  writ  of  "prise 
de  corps,  or  seizure  of  body,"  served  on  him,  and  dives  out  of 
sight,  to-morrow  he  is  left  at  large;  or  is  even  encouraged,  as 
a  sort  of  bandog  whose  baying  may  be  useful.  President 
Danton,  in  open  Hall,  with  reverberating  voice,  declares  that, 
in  a  case  like  Marat's,  "  force  may  be  resisted  by  force." ' 
Whereupon  the  Chatelet  serves  Danton  also  with  a  writ; —  ; 
which  however,  as  the  whole  Cordeliers  District  responds  to 
it,  what  Constable  will  be  prompt  to  execute?  Twice  more, 
on  new  occasions,  does  the  Chatelet  launch  its  writ ;  and  twice 
more  in  vain :  the  body  of  Danton  cannot  be  seized  by  Cha- 
telet ;  he  unseized,  should  he  even  fly  for  a  season,  shall 
behold  the  Chatelet  itself  flung  into  limbo. 

Municipality  and  Brissot,  meanwhile,  are  far  on  with  their 
Mvmicipal  Constitution.  The  Sixty  Districts  shall  become 
Forty-eight  Sections;  much  shall  be  adjusted,  and  Paris  have 
its  Constitution.  A  Constitution  wholly  Elective ;  as  indeed 
all  French  Government  shall  and  must  be.  And  yet,  one  fatal 
element  has  been  introduced :  that  of  citoyen  actif.  No  man 
who  does  not  pay  the  marc  d'argent,  or  yearly  tax  equal  to 
three-days  labor,  shall  be  other  than  a  passive  citizen :  not  the 
slightest  vote  for  him ;  were  he  acting,  all  the  year  round,  with 
sledge-hammer,  with  forest-levelling  axe !  Unheard  of !  cry 
Patriot  Journals.  Yes  truly,  my  Patriot  Friends,  if  Liberty, 
the  passion  and  prayer  of  all  men's  souls,  means  Liberty  to 
send  your  fifty-thousandth  part  of  a  new  Tongue-fencer  into 
National  Debating-club,  then,  be  the  gods  witness,  ye  are 
hardly  entreated.  O,  if  in  National  Palaver  (as  the  Africans 
name  it),  such  blessedness  is  verily  found,  what  tyrant  would 
deny  it  to  Son  of  Adam !  Nay,  might  there  not  be  a  Female 
Parliament  too,  with  "  screams  from  the  Opposition  benches," 
and  "  the  honorable  Member  borne  out  in  hysterics  "  ?  To  a 
Children's  Parliament  would  I  gladly  consent ;  or  even  lower 
if  ye  wished  it.  P>eIoved  Brothers!  Liberty,  one  may  fear, 
is  actually,  as  the  ancient  w'ise  men  said,  of  Heaven.  On  this 
Earth,  where,  thinks  the  enlightened  public,  did  a  brave  little 
Dame  de  Staal  (not  Necker's  Daughter,  but  a  far  shrewder 
than  she)  find  the  nearest  approach  to  Liberty?  After  mature 
computation,  cool  as  Dilworth's,  her  answer  is.  In  the  Bastille. a 
"  Of  Heaven  ?  "  answer  many,  asking.  Woe  that  they  should 
a  De  Staal,  Memoircs  (Paris,  1821),  i.  169-280. 


1789-90]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  .  273 

ask ;  for  that  is  the  very  misery  !  "  Of  Heaven  "  means  much  ; 
share  in  the  National  Palaver  it  may,  or  may  as  probably  not 
mean. 

One  Sansculottic  bough  that  cannot  fail  to  flourish  is  Jour- 
nalism. The  voice  of  the  People  being  the  voice  of  God,  shall 
not  such  divine  voice  make  itself  heard?  To  the  ends  of 
France ;  and  in  as  many  dialects  as  when  the  first  great  Babel 
was  to  be  built !  Some  loud  as  the  lion ;  some  small  as  the 
sucking  dove.  JMirabeau  himself  has  his  instructive  Journal 
or  Journals,  with  Geneva  hodmen  working  in  them ;  and  withal 
has  quarrels  enough  with  Dame  le  Jay,  his  Female  Bookseller, 
so  ultra-compliant  otherwise. ft 

King's-fricnd  Royou  still  prints  himself.  Barrere  sheds 
tears  of  loyal  sensibility  in  Break-of-Day  Journal,  though  with 
declining  sale.  But  why  is  Freron  so  hot,  democratic ;  Freron, 
the  King's-friend's  Nephew?  He  has  it  by  kind,  that  heat  of 
his:  zvasp  Freron  begot  him;  Voltaire's  Frclon;  who  fought 
stinging,  while  sting  and  poison-bag  were  left,  were  it  only  as 
Reviewer,  and  over  Printed  Waste-paper.  Constant,  illumina- 
tive, as  the  nightly  lamplighter,  issues  the  useful  Moniteur,  for 
it  is  now  become  diurnal :  with  facts  and  few  commentaries ; 
official,  safe  in  the  middle; — its  Able  Editors  sunk  long  since, 
recoverably  or  irrecoverably,  in  deep  darkness.  Acid  Loustalot, 
with  his  "  vigor,"  as  of  young  sloes,  shall  never  ripen,  but 
die  untimely :  his  Prudhomme,  however,  will  not  let  that  Re- 
volutions de  Paris  die ;  but  edit  it  himself,  with  much  else, — 
dull-blustering  Printer  though  he  be. 

Of  Cassandra-Marat  we  have  spoken  often ;    yet  the  mosf  | 
surprising  truth  remains  to  be  spoken :    that  he  actually  does  i 
not  want  sense ;    but,  with  croaking  gelid  throat,  croaks  out  j 
masses  of  the  truth,  on  several  things.     Nay  sometimes,  one 
might  almost  fancy  he  had  a  perception  of  humor,  and  were 
laughing  a  little,  far  down  in  his  inner  man.   Camillc  is  wittier 
than  ever,  and  more  outspoken,  cynical ;    yet  sunny  as  ever. 
A  light  melodious  creature ;    "  born,"  as  he  shall  yet  say  with  ^ 
bitter  tears,  "  to  write  verses ;"  light   Apollo,  so  clear,  soft- 
lucent,  in  this  war  of  the  Titans,  wherein  he  shall  not  conquer! 

Folded  and  hawked  Newspapers  exist  in  all  countries ;  but. 
in  such  a  Journalistic  element  as  this  of  France,  other  and 
stranger  sorts  are  to  be  anticipated.    What  says  the  English 

b  Dumont,  Souvenirs,  6. 

Vol.  I.— i3 


2  74  CARLYLE  [1789-90 

reader  to  a  Journal-AMche,  Placard-Journal;  legible  to  him 
that  has  no  half-penny ;  in  bright  prismatic  colors,  calling 
the  eye  from  afar?  Such,  in  the  coming  months,  as  Patriot 
Associations,  public  and  private,  advance,  and  can  subscribe 
funds,  shall  plenteously  hang  themselves  out:  leaves,  limed 
leaves,  to  catch  what  they  can!  The  very  Government  shall 
have  its  Pasted  Journal ;  Louvet,  busy  yet  with  a  new  "  charm- 
ing romance,"  shall  write  Sentinelles,  and  post  them  with 
effect ;  nay  Bertrand  de  Moleville,  in  his  extremity,  shall  still 
more  cunningly  try  it.c  Great  is  Journalism.  Is  not  every 
Able  Editor  a  Ruler  of  the  World,  being  a  persuader  of  it ; 
though  self-elected,  yet  sanctioned,  by  the  sale  of  his  Numbers? 
Whom  indeed  the  world  has  the  readiest  method  of  deposing, 
should  need  be :  that  of  merely  doing  nothing  to  him ;  which 
ends  in  starvation. 

Nor  esteem  it  small  what  those  Bill-stickers  had  to  do  in 
Paris :  above  Threescore  of  them :  all  with  their  crosspoles, 
haversacks,  pastepots ;  nay  with  leaden  badges,  for  the  Munic- 
ipality licenses  them.  A  Sacred  College,  properly  of  World- 
rulers'  Heralds,  though  not  respected  as  such  in  an  Era  still 
incipient  and  raw.  They  made  the  walls  of  Paris  didactic, 
suasive,  with  an  ever-fresh  Periodical  Literature,  wherein  he 
that  ran  might  read :  Placard  Journals,  Placard  Lampoons, 
Municipal  Ordinances,  Royal  Proclamations ;  the  whole  other 
or  vulgar  Placard-department  superadded, — or  omitted  from 
contempt !  What  unutterable  things  the  stone-walls  spoke, 
during  these  live  years !  But  it  is  all  gone  ;  To-day  swallow- 
ing Yesterday,  and  then  being  in  its  turn  swallowed  of  To- 
morrow, even  as  Speech  ever  is.  Nay  what,  O  thou  immortal 
Man  of  Letters,  is  Writing  itself  but  Speech  conserved  for  a 
time  ?  The  Placard  Journal  conserved  it  for  one  day ;  some 
Books  conserve  it  for  the  matter  of  ten  years ;  nay  some  for 
three  thousand:  but  what  then?  Why,  then,  the  years  being 
all  run,  it  also  dies,  and  the  world  is  rid  of  it.  O,  were  there 
not  a  spirit  in  the  word  of  man,  as  in  man  himself,  that  sur- 
vived the  audible  bodied  word,  and  tended  either  godward  or 
else  devilward  forevermore,  why  should  he  trouble  himself 
much  with  the  truth  of  it,  or  the  falsehood  of  it,  except  for 
commercial  purposes?  His  immortality  indeed,  and  whether 
it  shall  last  half  a  lifetime  or  a  lifetime  and  a  half;  is  not 
c  See  Bertrand-Moleville,  Mhnoires,  ii.  100,  &c. 


1789-90]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  275 

that  a  very  considerable  thing?  Immortality,  mortality: — there 
were  certain  runaways  whom  Fritz  the  Great  bullied  back  into 
the  battle  with  a :  "  R — ,  zvollt  ihr  ezvig  lehcn,  Unprintable  Off- 
scouring  of  Scoundrels,  would  ye  live  forever !  " 

This  is  the  Communication  of  Thought ;  how  happy  when 
there  is  any  Thought  to  communicate !  Neither  let  the  simpler 
old  methods  be  neglected,  in  their  sphere.  The  Palais-Royal 
Tent,  a  tyrannous  PatroUotism  has  removed ;  but  can  it  remove 
the  lungs  of  man?  Anaxagoras  Chaumette  we  saw  mounted 
on  bourne-stones,  while  Tallien  worked  sedentary  at  the  sub- 
editorial  desk.  In  any  corner  of  the  civilized  world,  a  tub  can 
be  inverted,  and  an  articulate-speaking  biped  mount  thereon. 
Nay,  with  contrivance,  a  portable  trestle,  or  folding-stool,  can 
be  procured,  for  love  or  money ;  this  the  peripatetic  Orator  can 
take  in  his  hand,  and,  driven  out  here,  set  it  up  again  there: 
saying  mildly,  with  a  Sage  Bias,  Oinnia  mea  mecmn  porto. 

Such  is  Journalism,  hawked,  pasted,  spoken.  How  changed 
since  One  old  Metra  walked  this  same  Tuileries  Garden,  in  gilt 
cocked-hat,  with  Journal  at  his  nose,  or  held  loose-folded  be- 
hind his  back  ;  and  was  a  notability  of  Paris,  "  Metra  the  News- 
man ;  "d  and  Louis  himself  was  wont  to  say:  Qii'en  dit  Metra? 
Since  the  first  A^enetian  News-sheet  was  sold  for  a  ga::za,  or 
farthing,  and  named  Gazette!    We  live  in  a  fertile  world. 


Chapter  V. — Clubbism. 

Where  the  heart  is  full,  it  seeks,  for  a  thousand  reasons,  in  a 
thousand  ways,  to  impart  itself.  How  sweet,  indispensable,  in 
such  cases,  is  fellowship ;  soul  mystically  strengthening  soul ! 
The  meditative  Germans,  some  think,  have  been  of  opinion  that 
Enthusiasm  in  general  means  simply  excessive  Congregating — 
Schivariucrey,  or  Szvarming.  At  any  rate,  do  we  not  see  glim- 
mering half-red  embers,  if  laid  together,  get  into  the  brightest 
white  glow  ? 

In  such  a  France,  gregarious  Reunions  will  needs  multiply, 
intensify ;  French  Life  will  step  out  of  doors,  and,  from  do- 
mestic, become  a  public  Club  Life.  Old  Clubs,  which  already 
germinated,  grow  and  flourish  ;  new  everywhere  bud  forth.  It 
is  the  sure  symptom  of  Social  LTnrest :  in  such  way.  most  in- 
fallibly of  all,  does  Social  Unrest  exhibit  itself;  find  solaccment, 

d  Dulaure,  Histoire  de  Paris,  viii.  483  ;  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  &c. 


* 


276  CARLYLE  [1789—90 

and  also  nutriment.  In  every  French  head  there  hands  now, 
whether  for  terror  of  for  hope,  some  prophetic  picture  of  a  New 
France :  prophecy  which  brings,  nay  which  almost  is,  its  own 
fulfilment ;  and  in  all  ways,  consciously  and  unconsciously, 
works  towards  that. 

Observe,  moreover,  how  the  Aggregative  Principle,  let  it  be 
but  deep  enough,  goes  on  aggregating,  and  this  even  in  a 
geometrical  progression ;  how  when  the  whole  world,  in  such 
a  plastic  time,  is  forming  itself  into  Clubs,  some  One  Club,  the 
strongest  or  luckiest,  shall  by  friendly  attracting,  by  victorious 
compelling,  grow  ever  stronger,  till  it  become  immeasurably 
strong ;  and  all  the  others,  with  their  strength,  be  either  lovingly 
absorbed  into  it,  or  hostilely  abolished  by  it.  This  if  the  Club-"f 
spirit  is  universal;  if  the  time  is  plastic.  Plastic  enough  is  the' 
time,  universal  the  Club-spirit:  such  an  all-absorbing,  para- 
mount One  Club  cannot  be  wanting. 

What  a  progress,  since  the  first  salient-point  of  the  Breton 
Committee !  It  worked  long  in  secret,  not  languidly ;  it  has 
come  with  the  National  Assembly  to  Paris ;  calls  itself  Club; 
calls  itself,  in  imitation,  as  is  thought,  of  those  generous  Price- 
Stanhope  English  who  sent  over  to  congratulate,  French  Revo-  *■» 
lutioii  Club;  but  soon,  with  more  originality.  Club  of  Friends  of  ; 
the  Cousfifution.  Moreover  it  has  leased  for  itself,  at  a  fair^ 
rent,  the  Hall  of  the  Jacobins  Convent,  one  of  our  "  superfluous 
edifices";  and  does  therefrom  now,  in  these  spring  months, 
begin  shining  out  on  an  admiring  Paris.  And  so,  by  degrees, 
under  the  shorter  popular  title  of  Jacobins  Club,  it  shall  become 
memorable  to  all  times  and  lands.  Glance  into  the  interior: 
strongly  yet  modestly  benched  and  seated ;  as  many  as  Thirteen 
Hundred  chosen  Patriots ;  Assembly  Members  not  a  few. 
Barnave,  the  tv-o  Lameths  are  seen  there ;  occasionally  Mira- 
beau,  perpetually  Robespierre ;  also  the  ferret-visage  of 
Fouquier-Tinville  with  other  attorneys ;  Anacharsis  of  Prus- 
sian Scythia,  and  miscellaneous  Patriots, — though  all  is  yet  in 
the  most  perfectly  clean-washed  state ;  decent,  nay  dignified. 
President  on  platform,  President's  bell  are  not  wanting ;  oratori- 
cal Tribune  high-raised ;  nor  strangers'  galleries,  wherein  also 
sit  women.  Has  any  French  Antiquarian  Society  preserved 
that  written  Lease  of  the  Jacobins  Convent  Hall?  Or  was  it, 
unluckicr  even  than  Magna  Charta,  dipt  by  sacrilegious 
Tailors?    Universal  History  is  not  indifferent  to  it. 


1789-90]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  277 

These  Friends  of  the  Constitution  have  met  mainly,  as  their 
name  may  foreshadow,  to  look  after  Elections  when  an  Election 
comes,  and  procure  fit  men:  but  likewise  to  consult  generally 
that  the  Commonweal  take  no  damage ;  one  as  yet  sees  not  how. 
For  indeed  let  two  or  three  gather  together  anywhere,  if  it  be 
not  in  Church,  where  all  are  bound  to  the  passive  state;  no 
mortal  can  say  accurately,  themselves  as  little  as  any,  for  zvliat 
they  are  gathered.  How  often  has  the  broached  barrel  proved 
not  to  be  for  joy  and  heart-effusion,  but  for  duel  and  head- 
breakage ;  and  the  promised  feast  become  a  Feast  of  the 
Lapithai !  This  Jacobins  Club,  which  at  first  shone  resplendent, 
and  was  thought  to  be  a  new  celestial  Sun  for  enlightening  the 
Nations,  had,  as  things  all  have,  to  work  through  its  appointed 
phases:  it  burned  unfortunately  more  and  more  lurid,  more 
sulphurous,  distracted ; — and  swam  at  last,  through  the  aston-  ] 
ished  Heaven,  like  a  Tartarean  Portent,  and  lurid-burning  ' 
Prison  of  Spirits  in  Pain. 

Its  style  of  eloquence?     Rejoice,  Reader,  that  thou  knowest 
it  not,  that  thou  canst  never  perfectly  know.     The  Jacobins  pub- 
lished a  Journal  of  Debates,  where  they  that  have  the  heart  may 
\k  I  examine :  impassioned,  dull-droning  Patriotic  eloquence ;  im- 
^    placable,  unfertile — save  for  Destruction,  which  was  indeed  its 
work :  most  wearisome,  though  most  deadly.     Be  thankful  that 
T)blivion  covers  so  much ;  that  all  carrion  is  by  and  by  buried  in 
the  green  Earth's  bosom,  and  even  makes  her  grow  the  greener. 
The  Jacobins  are  buried;  but  their  work  is  not;  it  continues- 
"  making  the  tour  of  the  world,"  as  it  can.     It  might  be  seen ._ 
lately,  for  instance,  with  bared  bosom  and  death-defiant  eye,  as   I 
far  on  as  Greek  Missolonghi ;  strange  enough,  old  slumbering  I 
Hellas  was  resuscitated,  into  soiuiiainbulisin  which  will  become 
clear  wakefulness,  by  a  voice  from  the  Rue  St.  Honore !     All  ^ 
dies,  as  we  often  say;  except  the  spirit  of  man,  of  what  man 
does.     Thus  has  not  the  very  House  of  the  Jacobins  vanished : 
scarcely  lingering  in   a   few   old   men's   memories?     The    St. 
Honore  Market  has  brushed  it  away,  and  now  where  dull- 
droning  eloquence,  like  a  Trump  of  Doom,  once  shook  the  world, 
there  is  pacific  chaffering  for  poultry  and  greens.    The  sacred - 
National  Assembly  Hall  itself  has  become  common  ground; 
President's  platform  permeable  to  wain  and  dustcart ;  for  the 
Rue  de  Rivoli  runs  there.   Verily,  at  Cockcrow  (of  this  Cock 
or  the  other),  all  Apparitions  do  melt  and  dissolve  in  space. 


278  CARLYLE  [1789—90 

The  Paris  Jacobins  became  "  the  Mother  Society,  Societe 
Mere ;  "  and  had  as  many  as  "  three  hundred  "  shrill-tongued 
daughters  in  "  direct  correspondence  "  with  her.  Of  indirectly 
corresponding,  what  we  may  call  grand-daughters  and  minute 
progeny,  she  counted  "  forty-four  thousand !  " — But  for  the  pre- 
sent we  note  only  two  things :  the  first  of  them  a  mere  anecdote. 
One  night,  a  couple  of  brother  Jacobins  are  door-keepers ;  for  / 
the  members  take  this  post  of  duty  and  honor  in  rotation,  and 
admit  none  that  have  not  tickets :  one  door-keeper  was  the 
worthy  Sieur  Lais,  a  patriotic  Opera-singer,  stricken  in  years, 
whose  windpipe  is  long  since  closed  without  result ;  the  other, 
young,  and  named  Louis  Philippe,  D'Orleans's  firstborn,  has  in 
this  latter  time,  after  unheard-of  destinies,  become  Citizen-King, 
and  struggles  to  rule  for  a  season.  All  flesh  is  grass ;  higher 
reedgrass,  or  creeping  herb. 

The  second  thing  we  have  to  note  is  historical :  that  the 
Mother  Society,  even  in  this  its  effulgent  period,  cannot  content 
all  Patriots.  Already  it  must  throw  off,  so  to  speak,  two  dis- 
satisfied swarms ;  a  swarm  to  the  right,  a  swarm  to  the  left. 
One  party,  which  thinks  the  Jacobins  lukewarm,  constitutes  it--/ 
self  into  CUih  of  the  Cordeliers;  a  hotter  Club:  it  is  Danton's 
element ;  with  whom  goes  Desmoulins.  The  other  party,  again,  j 
which  thinks  the  Jacobins  scalding-hot,  flies  off  to  the  right,  and 
becomes  "  Club  of  1789,  Friends  of  the  Monarchic  Constitution." 
They  are  afterwards  named  "  Feidllans  Cliih;"  their  place  of 
meeting  being  the  Feuillans  Convent.  Lafayette  is,  or  becomes, 
their  chief  man ;  supported  by  the  respectable  Patriot  every- 
where, by  the  mass  of  Property  and  Intelligence, — with  the  most 
flourishing  prospects.  They,  in  these  June  days  of  1790,  do, 
in  the  Palais  Royal,  dine  solemnly  with  open  windows ;  to  the 
cheers  of  the  people ;  with  toasts,  with  inspiriting  songs, — with 
one  song  at  least,  among  the  feeblest  ever  sung.a  They  shall, 
in  due  time,  be  hooted  forth,  over  the  borders,  into  Cimmerian 
Night. 

Another  expressly  Monarchic  or  Royalist  Club,  "  Club  des 
Monarchiens,"  though  a  Club  of  ample  funds,  and  all  sitting  on 
damask  sofas,  cannot  realize  the  smallest  momentary  cheer: 
realizes  only  scoffs  and  groans ; — till,  ere  long,  certain  Patriots 
in  disorderly  sufficient  number,  proceed  thither,  for  a  night  or 
for  nights,  and  groan  it  out  of  pain.     Vivacious  alone  shall  the 

a  Hist.  Pari.  vi.  334. 


1789—90]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  279 

Mother  Society  and  her  family  be.  The  very  Cordeliers  may, 
as  it  were,  return  into  her  bosom,  which  will  have  grown  warm 
enough. 

Fatal-looking!     Are  not  such  Societies  an  incipient  New 
Order  of  Society  itself?    The  Aggregative  Principle  anew  at 
work  in  a  Society  grown  obsolete,  cracked  asunder,  dissolving ' 
into  rubbish  and  primary  atoms  ?  J 


Chapter  VI. — Je  le  Jure. 

With  these  signs  of  the  times,  is  it  not  surprising  that  the 
dominant  feeling  all  over  France  was  still  continually  Hope? 
O  blessed  Hope,  sole  boon  of  man :  whereby,  on  his  strait  prison- 
walls,  are  painted  beautiful  far-stretching  landscapes;  and  into 
the  night  of  very  Death  is  shed  holiest  dawn !  Thou  art  to  all 
an  indefeasible  possession  in  this  God's-world ;  to  the  wise  a 
sacred  Constantine's-banner,  written  on  the  eternal  skies ;  under 
which  they  shall  conquer,  for  the  battle  itself  is  victory :  to  the 
foolish  some  secular  mirage,  or  shadow  of  still  waters,  painted 
on  the  parched  Earth ;  whereby  at  least  their  dusty  pilgrimage, 
if  devious,  becomes  cheerfuler,  becomes  possible. 

In  the  death  tumults  of  a  sinking  Society,  French  Hope  sees 
only  the  birth-struggles  of  a  new  unspeakably  better  Society ; 
and  sings,  with  full  assurance  of  faith,  her  brisk  Melody,  which 
some  inspired  fiddler  has  in  these  very  days  composed  for  her, — ■ 
the  world-famous  Ca-ira.  Yes ;  "  that  will  go :  "  and  then  there 
will  come — ?  All  men  hope  ;  even  Marat  hopes — that  Patriotism 
will  take  muff  and  dirk.  King  Louis  is  not  without  hope :  in 
the  chapter  of  chances ;  in  a  flight  to  some  Bouille ;  in  getting 
popularized  at  Paris.  But  what  a  hoping  People  he  had,  judge 
by  the  fact,  and  series  of  facts,  now  to  be  noted. 

Poor  Louis,  meaning  the  best,  with  little  insight  and  even  less-- 
determination  of  his  own,  has  to  follow,  in  that  dim  wayfaring 
of  his,  such  signal  as  may  be  given  him  ;  by  backstairs  Royalism, 
by  official  or  backstairs  Constitutionalism,  whichever  for  the ' 
month  may  have  convinced  the  royal  mind.    If  flight  to  BouilleJ 
and  (horrible  to  think!)  a  draiving  of  the  civil  sword  do  hang 
as  theory,  portentous  in  the  background,  much  nearer  is  this 
fact  of  these  Twelve  Hundred  Kings,  who  sit  in  the  Salic  ilc 
Manege.     Kings  uncontrollable  by  him,  not  yet  irreverent  to 


2  8o  CARLYLE  [1790 

him.  Could  kind  management  of  these  but  prosper,  how  much 
better  were  it  than  armed  Emigrants,  Turin  intrigues,  and  the 
help  of  Austria !  Nay  are  the  tzvo  hopes  inconsistent  ?  Rides 
in  the  suburbs,  we  have  found,  cost  little;  yet  they  always 
brought  z'ivats.a  Still  cheaper  is  a  soft  word ;  such  as  has  many 
times  turned  away  wrath.  In  these  rapid  days,  while  France  is 
all  getting  divided  into  Departments,  Clergy  about  to  be  re- 
modelled, Popular  Societies  rising,  and  Feudalism  and  so  much 
else  is  ready  to  be  hurled  into  the  melting-pot, — might  not  one 
try? 

On  the  4th  of  February,  accordingly,  M.  le  President  reads 
to  his  National  Assembly  a  short  autograph,  announcing  that 
his  Majesty  will  step  over,  quite  in  an  unceremonious  way,  prob- 
ably about  noon.  Think,  therefore.  Messieurs,  what  it  may 
mean;  especially,  how  ye  will  get  the  Hall  decorated  a  little. 
The  Secretaries'  Bureau  can  be  shifted  down  from  the  platform ; 
on  the  President's  chair  be  slipped  this  cover  of  velvet,  "  of  a 
violet  color  sprigged  with  gold  fleur-de-lys  ;  " — for  indeed  M.  le 
President  has  had  previous  notice  underhand,  and  taken  counsel 
with  Doctor  Guillotin.  Then  some  fraction  of  "  velvet  carpet," 
of  like  texture  and  color,  cannot  that  be  spread  in  front  of  the 
chair,  where  the  Secretaries  usually  sit?  So  has  judicious  Guil- 
lotin advised ;  and  the  effect  is  found  satisfactory.  Moreover, 
as  it  is  probable  that  his  Majesty,  in  spite  of  the  fleur-de-lys  vel- 
vet, will  stand  and  not  sit  at  all,  the  President  himself,  in  the 
interim,  presides  standing.  And  so,  while  some  honorable 
Member  is  discussing,  say,  the  division  of  a  Department,  Ushers 
announce:  "  His  Majesty  I  "  In  person,  with  small  suite,  enter 
Majesty:  the  honorable  Member  stops  short;  the  Assembly 
starts  to  its  feet :  the  Twelve  Hundred  Kings  "  almost  all,"  and 
the  Galleries  no  less,  do  welcome  the  Restorer  of  French  Liberty 
with  loyal  shouts.  His  Majesty's  Speech,  in  diluted  conven- 
tional phraseology,  expresses  this  mainly :  That  he,  most  of  all 
Frenchmen,  rejoices  to  see  France  getting  regenerated ;  is  sure, 
at  the  same  time,  that  they  will  deal  gently  with  her  in  the  pro- 
cess, and  not  regenerate  her  roughly.  Such  was  his  Majesty's 
speech  :  the  feat  he  performed  was  coming  to  speak  it,  and  going 
back  again. 

Surely,  except  to  a  very  hoping  People,  there  was  not  much 
here  to  build  upon.    Yet  what  did  they  not  build  !    The  fact  that 
a  See  Bertrand-Moleville,  i.  241,  &c. 


February  4th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  281 

the  King  has  spoken,  that  he  has  vohmtarily  come  to  speak,  how 
inexpressibly  encouraging!     Did  not  the  glance  of  his  royal 
countenance,  like  concentrated  sunbeams,  kindle  all  hearts  in 
an  august  Assembly ;  nay  thereby  in  an  inflammable  enthusiastic 
France  ?     To  move  "  Deputation  of  thanks  "  can  be  the  happy 
lot  of  but  one  man ;  to  go  in  such  Deputation  the  lot  of  not  many. 
The  Deputed  have  gone,  and  returned  with  what  highest-flown*] 
compliment  they  could ;    whom  also  the  Queen  met,  Dauphin  j 
in  hand.    And  still  do  not  our  hearts  burn  with  insatiable  grati-  ' 
tude ;  and  to  one  other  man  a  still  higher  blessedness  suggests 
itself :  To  move  that  we  all  renew  the  National  Oath. 

Happiest  honorable  Member,  with  his  word  so  in  season  as 
word  seldom  was  ;  magic  Fugleman  of  a  whole  National  Assem- 
bly, which  sat  there  bursting  to  do  somewhat;  Fugleman  of  a 
whole  onlooking  France !  The  President  swears ;  declares  that 
every  one  shall  swear,  in  distinct  je  le  jure.  Nay  the  very  Gal- 
lery sends  him  down  a  written  slip  signed,  with  their  Oath  on 
it ;  and  as  the  Assembly  now  casts  an  eye  that  way,  the  Gallery 
all  stands  up  and  swears  again.  And  then  out  of  doors,  con- 
sider at  the  H6tel-de-Ville  how  Bailly,  the  great  Tennis-Court 
swearer,  again  swears,  towards  nightfall,  with  all  the  Munici- 
pals, and  Heads  of  Districts  assembled  there.  And  "  M.  Danton 
suggests  that  the  public  would  like  to  partake :  "  whereupon 
Bailly,  with  escort  of  Twelve,  steps  forth  to  the  great  outer  stair- 
case ;  sways  the  ebullient  multitude  with  stretched  hand ;  takes 
their  oath,  with  a  thunder  of  "  rolling  drums,"  with  shouts  that 
rend  the  welkin.  And  on  all  streets  the  glad  people,  with 
moisture  and  fire  in  their  eyes,  "  spontaneously  formed  groups, 
and  swore  one  another,"^ — and  the  whole  City  was  illuminated. 

,  This  was  the  Fourth  of  February  1790:  a  day  to  be  marked 

[  white  in  Constitutional  annals. 

Nor  is  the  illumination  for  a  night  only,  but  partially  or  totally 
it  lasts  a  series  of  nights.  For  each  District,  the  Electors  of 
each  District  will  swear  specially ;  and  always  as  the  District 
swears,  it  illuminates  itself.  Behold  them,  District  after  Dis- 
trict, in  some  open  square,  where  the  Non-Electing  People  can 
all  see  and  join:  with  their  uplifted  right-hands,  and  jc  Ic  jure; 
with  rolling  drums,  with  cmbracings,  and  that  infinite  hurrah  of 
the  enfranchised, — which  any  tyrant  that  there  may  be  can  con- 

6  Newspapers  (in  Hist.  Pari.  iv.  445). 


282  CARLYLE  [1789—90 

sider!     Faithful  to  the  King,  to  the  Law,  to  the  Constitution 
which  the  National  Assembly  shall  make. 

Fancy,  for  example,  the  Professors  of  Universities  parading 
the  streets  with  their  young  France,  and  swearing,  in  an  en- 
thusiastic manner,  not  without  tumult.  By  a  larger  exercise  of 
fancy,  expand  duly  this  little  word:  The  like  was  repeated  in 
every  Town  and  District  in  France !  Nay  one  Patriot  Mother, 
in  Lagnon  of  Brittany,  assembles  her  ten  children ;  and,  with  her 
own  aged  hand,  swears  them  all  herself,  the  high-souled  vener- 
able woman.  Of  all  which,  moreover,  a  National  Assembly 
must  be  eloquently  apprised.  Such  three  weeks  of  swearing! 
Saw  the  Sun  ever  such  a  swearing  people  ?  Have  they  been  bit 
by  a  swearing  tarantula  ?  No :  but  they  are  men  and  French- 
men ;  they  have  Hope ;  and,  singular  to  say,  they  have  Faith, 
were  it  only  in  the  Gospel  according  to  Jean  Jacques.  O  my 
Brothers,  would  to  Heaven  it  were  even  as  ye  think  and  have 
sworn !  But  there  are  Lover's  Oaths,  which,  had  they  been  true 
as  love  itself,  cannot  be  kept ;  not  to  speak  of  Dicer's  Oaths,  also 
a  known  sort. 

Chapter  VII. — Prodigies. 

To  such  length  had  the  Contrat  Social  brought  it,  in  believing 
hearts.  Man,  as  is  well  said,  lives  by  faith  ;  each  generation  has 
its  own  faith,  more  or  less ;  and  laughs  at  the  faith  of  its  pred- 
ecessor,— most  unwisely.  Grant  indeed  that  this  faith  in  the 
Social  Contract  belongs  to  the  stranger  sorts ;  that  an  unborn 
generation  may  very  wisely,  if  not  laugh,  yet  stare  at  it,  and 
piously  consider.  For,  alas,  what  is  Contrat?  If  all  men  were  ■! 
such  that  a  mere  spoken  or  sworn  Contract  would  bind  them, 
all  men  were  then  true  men,  and  Government  a  superfluity.  Not 
what  thou  and  I  have  promised  to  each  other,  but  what  the 
balance  of  our  forces  can  make  us  perform  to  each  other :  that, 
in  so  sinful  a  world  as  ours,  is  the  thing  to  be  counted  on.  But 
above  all,  a  People  and  a  Sovereign  promising  to  one  another; 
as  if  a  whole  People,  changing  from  generation  to  generation, 
nay  from  hour  to  hour,  could  ever  by  any  method  be  made  to 
speak  or  promise ;  and  to  speak  mere  solecisms :  "  We,  be  the 
Heavens  witness,  which  Heavens,  however,  do  no  miracles  now  ; 
we,  ever-changing  Millions,  will  allozv  thee,  changeful  Unit,  to 
force  us  or  govern  us !  "  The  world  has  perhaps  seen  few  faiths 
comparable  to  that. 


1789—90]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  283 

So  nevertheless  had  the  world  then  construed  the  matter. 
Had  they  not  so  construed  it,  how  different  had  their  hopes 
been,  their  attempts,  their  resuks !  But  so  and  not  otherwise 
did  the  Upper  Powers  will  it  to  be.  Freedom  by  social  Con- 
tract :  such  was  verily  the  Gospel  of  that  Era.  And  all  men 
had  believed  in  it,  as  in  a  Heaven's  Glad-tidings  men  should ; 
and  with  overflowing  heart  and  uplifted  voice  clave  to  it,  and 
stood  fronting  Time  and  Eternity  on  it.  Nay  smile  not ;  or 
only  with  a  smile  sadder  than  tears !  This  too  was  a  better 
faith  than  the  one  it  had  replaced ;  than  faith  merely  in  the 
Everlasting  Nothing  and  man's  Digestive  Power;  lower  than 
which  no  faith  can  go. 

Not  that  such  universally  prevalent,  universally  jurant, 
feeling  of  Hope  could  be  a  unanimous  one.  Far  from  that. 
The  time  was  ominous :  social  dissolution  near  and  certain  ; 
social  renovation  still  a  problem,  difficult  and  distant,  even 
though  sure.  But  if  ominous  to  some  clearest  onlooker,  whose 
faith  stood  not  with  the  one  side  or  with  the  other,  nor  in 
the  ever-vexed  jarring  of  Greek  with  Greek  at  all, — how  un- 
speakably ominous  to  dim  Royalist  participators ;  for  whom 
Royalism  was  Mankind's  palladium  ;  for  whom,  with  the  aboli- 
tion of  Most-Christian  Kingship  and  Most-Talleyrand  Bishop- 
ship,  all  loyal  obedience,  all  religious  faith  was  to  expire,  and 
final  Night  envelop  the  Destinies  of  Man !  On  serious  hearts, 
of  that  persuasion,  the  matter  sinks  down  deep ;  prompting, 
as  we  have  seen,  to  backstairs  plots,  to  Emigration  with  pledge 
of  war,  to  Monarchic  Clubs ;    nay  to  still  madder  things. 

The  Spirit  of  Prophecy,  for  instance,  had  been  considered 
extinct  for  some  centuries :  nevertheless  these  last-times,  as 
indeed  is  the  tendency  of  last-times,  do  revive  it ;  that  so, 
of  French  mad  things,  we  might  have  sample  also  of  the 
maddest.  In  remote  rural  districts,  whither  Philosophism  has 
not  yet  radiated,  where  a  heterodox  Constitution  of  the  Clergy 
is  bringing  strife  round  the  altar  itself,  and  the  very  Church- 
bells  are  getting  melted  into  small  money-coin,  it  appears  proli- 
ablc  that  the  End  of  the  World  cannot  be  far  off.  Deep-musing 
atrabiliar  old  men,  especially  old  women,  hint  in  an  obscure 
way  that  they  know  what  they  know.  The  Holy  Virgin,  silent 
so  long,  has  not  gone  dumb ; — and  truly  now,  if  ever  more  in 
this  world,  were  the  time  for  her  to  speak.  One  Prophetess, 
though  careless  Historians  have  omitted  her  name,  condition 


2S4  CARLYLE  [1789—90 

and  whereabout,  becomes  audible  to  the  general  ear ;  credible 
to  not  a  few ;  credible  to  Friar  Gerle,  poor  Patriot  Chartreux, 
in  the  National  Assembly  itself!  She,  in  Pythoness  recitative, 
with  wild-staring  eye,  sings  that  there  shall  be  a  Sign;  that 
the  heavenly  Sun  himself  will  hang  out  a  Sign,  or  Mock  Sun, 
— which,  many  say,  shall  be  stamped  with  the  Head  of  hanged 
Favras.  List,  Dom  Gerle,  with  that  poor  addled  poll  of  thine ; 
list,  O,  list ; — and  hear  nothing.^ 

Notable,  however,  was  that  "  magnetic  vellum,  velin  mag- 
netiquc,"  of  the  Sieurs  d'Hozier  and  Petit- Jean,  Parlementeers 
of  Rouen.  Sweet  young  D'Hozier,  "  bred  in  the  faith  of  his 
Missal,  and  of  parchment  genealogies,"  and  of  parchment  gen- 
erally ;  adust,  melancholic,  middle-aged  Petit-Jean :  why  came 
these  two  to  Saint-Cloud,  where  his  Majesty  was  hunting,  on 
the  festival  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul ;  and  waited  there,  in 
antechambers,  a  wonder  to  whispering  Swiss,  the  livelong  day ; 
and  even  waited  without  the  Grates,  when  turned  out ;  and 
had  dismissed  their  valets  to  Paris,  as  with  purpose  of  end- 
less waiting?  They  have  a  magnetic  vellum,  these  two; 
whereon  the  Virgin,  wonderfully  clothing  herself  in  Mes- 
merean  Cagliostric  Occult-Philosophy,  has  inspired  them  to 
jot  down  instructions  and  predictions  for  a  much-straitened 
King.  To  whom,  by  Higher  Order,  they  will  this  day  present 
it ;  and  save  the  Monarchy  and  World.  Unaccountable 
pair  of  visual-objects !  Ye  should  be  men,  and  of  the  Eigh- 
teenth Century ;  but  your  magnetic  vellum  forbids  us  so  to 
interpret.  Say,  are  ye  aught?  Thus  ask  the  Guard-house 
Captains,  the  Mayor  of  Saint-Cloud ;  nay,  at  great  length, 
thus  asks  the  Committee  of  Researches,  and  not  the  Municipal, 
but  the  National  Assembly  one.  No  distinct  answer,  for  weeks. 
At  last  it  becomes  plain  that  the  right  answer  is  negative. 
Go,  ye  Chimeras,  with  your  magnetic  vellum ;  sweet  young 
Chimera,  adust  middle-aged  one !  The  Prison-doors  are  open. 
Hardly  again  shall  ye  preside  the  Rouen  Chamber  of  Ac- 
counts ;    but  vanish  obscurely  into  Limbo.^ 

a  Deux  Amis,  v.  7. 

b  See  Deux  Amis,  v.  199. 


1789—90]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  285 


Chapter  VIII. — Solemn  League  and  Covenant. 

Such  dim  masses,  and  specks  of  even  deepest  black,  work^ 
in  that  white-hot  glow  of  the  French  mind,  now  wholly  in  | 
fusion  and  co;/fusion.     Old  women  here   swearing  their  ten 
children  on  the  new  Evangel  of  Jean  Jacques ;    old   women 
there  looking  up  for  Favras'  Heads  in  the  celestial  Luminary :  1 
these  are  preternatural   signs,  prefiguring  somewhat.  J 

In  fact,  to  the  Patriot  children  of  Hope  themselves  it  is 
undeniable  that  difficulties  exist :  emigrating  Seigneurs  ;  Parle- 
ments  in  sneaking  but  most  malicious  mutiny  (though  the 
rope  is  round  their  neck)  ;  above  all,  the  most  decided  "  de- 
ficiency of  grains."  Sorrowful ;  but  to  a  Nation  that  hopes, 
not  irremediable.  To  a  Nation  which  is  in  fusion  and  ardent 
commtmion  of  thought ;  which,  for  example,  on  signal  of 
one  Fugleman  will  lift  its  right-hand  like  a  drilled  regiment, 
and  swear  and  ihuminate,  till  every  village  from  Ardennes  to 
the  Pyrenees  has  rolled  its  village-drum,  and  sent  up  its  little 
oath,  and  glimmer  of  tallow-illumination  some  fathoms  into 
the  reign  of  Night! 

If  grains  are  defective,  the  fault  is  not  of  Nature  or  Na--i 
tional  Assembly,  but  of  Art  and  Anti-National  Intriguers. J 
Such  malign  individuals,  of  the  scoundrel  species,  have  power 
to  vex  us,  while  the  Constitution  is  a-making.  Endure  it,  ye 
heroic  Patriots :  nay  rather,  why  not"  cure  it  ?  Grains  do 
grow,  they  lie  extant  there  in  sheaf  or  sack ;  only  that  re- 
graters  and  Royalist  plotters,  to  provoke  the  People  into 
illegality,  obstruct  the  transport  of  grains.  Quick,  ye  or- 
ganized Patriot  Authorities,  armed  National  Guards,  meet 
together ;  unite  your  goodwill ;  in  union  is  tenfold  strength : 
let  the  concentrated  flash  of  your  Patriotism  strike  stealthy 
Scoundrclism  blind,  paralytic,  as  with  a  coup  dc  soldi. 

Under  which  hat  or  nightcap  of  the  Twenty-five  millions, 
this  pregnant  Idea  first  arose,  for  in  some  one  head  it  did 
rise,  no  man  can  now  say.  A  most  small  idea,  near  at  hand 
for  the  whole  world :  but  a  living  one,  fit ;  and  which  waxed, 
whether  into  greatness  or  not,  into  immeasurable  size.  When 
a  Nation  is  in  this  state  that  the  Fugleman  can  operate  on 
it,  what  will  the  word  in  season,  the  act  in  season,  not  do! 
It  will  grow  verily,  like  the  Boy's  Bean,  in  the   Fairy-Tale, 


2  86  CARLYLE  [1789-90 

heaven-high,  with  habitations  and  adventures  on  it,  in  one 
night.  It  is  nevertheless  unfortunately  still  a  Bean  (for  your 
long-lived  Oak  grows  not  so)  ;  and  the  next  night,  it  may  lie 
felled,  horizontal,  trodden  into  common  mud. — But  remark, 
at  least,  how  natural  to  any  agitated  Nation,  which  has  Faith, 
this  business  of  Covenanting  is.  The  Scotch,  believing  in  a 
righteous  Heaven  above  them,  and  also  in  a  Gospel  far  other 
than  the  Jean-Jacques  one,  swore,  in  their  extreme  need,  a 
Solemn  League  and  Covenant, — as  Brothers  on  the  forlorn- 
hope,  and  imminence  of  battle,  who  embrace,  looking  godward : 
and  got  the  whole  Isle  to  swear  it;  and  even,  in  their  tough 
Old-Saxon  Hebrew-Presbyterian  way,  to  keep  it  more  or  less ; 
— for  the  thing,  as  such  things  are,  was  heard  in  Heaven  and 
partially  ratified  there :  neither  is  it  yet  dead,  if  thou  wilt 
look,  nor  like  to  die.  The  French  too,  with  their  Gallic-Ethnic 
excitability  and  effervescence,  have,  as  we  have  seen,  real 
Faith,  of  a  sort ;  they  are  hard  bested,  though  in  the  middle 
of  Hope :  a  National  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  there  may 
be  in  France  too ;  under  how  different  conditions ;  with  how 
different  development  and  issue! 

Note,  accordingly,  the  small  commencement ;  first  spark  of 
a  mighty  firework :  for  if  the  particular  Jwt  cannot  be  fixed 
upon  the  particular  District  can.  On  the  29th  day  of  last 
November,  were  National  Guards  by  the  thousand  seen  filing, 
from  far  and  near,  with  military  music,  with  Municipal  officers 
in  tricolor  sashes,  towards  and  along  the  Rhone-stream,  to  the 
little  town  of  Etoile.  There  with  ceremonial  evolution  and 
manoeuvre,  with  fanfaronading,  musketry  salvoes,  and  what 
else  the  Patriot  genius  could  devise,  they  made  oath  and  ob- 
testation to  stand  faithfully  by  one  another,  under  Law  and 
King ;  in  particular,  to  have  all  manner  of  grains,  while  grains 
there  were,  freely  circulated,  in  spite  both  of  robber  and  re- 
grater.  This  was  the  meeting  of  Etoile,  in  the  mild  end  of 
November,  1789. 

But  now,  if  a  mere  empty  Review,  followed  by  Review- 
dinner,  ball,  and  such  gesticulation  and  flirtation  as  there  may 
be,  interests  the  happy  County-town,  and  makes  it  the  envy 
of  surrounding  County-towns,  how  much  more  might  this ! 
In  a  fortnight,  larger  Montelimart,  half  ashamed  of  itself, 
will  do  as  good,  and  better.  On  the  Plain  of  Montelimart, 
or  what  is  equally  sonorous,  "  under  the  Walls  of  Monteli- 


1789-90]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  287 

mart,"  the  13th  of  December  sees  new  gathering  and  obtesta- 
tion ;  six  thousand  strong ;  and  now  indeed,  with  these  three 
remarkable  improvements,  as  unanimously  resolved  on  there. 
First,  that  the  men  of  Montelimart  do  federate  with  the 
already  federated  men  of  Etoile.  Second,  that,  implying  not 
expressing  the  circulation  of  grain,  they  "  swear  in  tlie  face  of 
God  and  their  Country  "  with  much  more  emphasis  and  com- 
prehensiveness, "  to  obey  all  decrees  of  the  National  Assembly, 
and  see  them  obeyed,  till  death,  jiisqua  la  morty  Third,  and 
most  important,  that  ofBcial  record  of  all  this  be  solemnly 
delivered  in,  to  the  National  Assembly,  to  M.  de  Lafayette, 
and  "  to  the  Restorer  of  French  Liberty ;"  who  shall  all  take 
what  comfort  from  it  they  can.  Thus  does  larger  Montelimart 
vindicate  its  Patriot  importance,  and  maintain  its  rank  in  the 
municipal  scale.a 

And  so,  with  the  New-year,  the  signal  is  hoisted :  for  is 
not  a  National  Assembly,  and  solemn  deliverance  there,  at 
lowest  a  National  Telegraph  ?  Not  only  grain  shall  circulate, 
while  there  is  grain,  on  highways  or  the  Rhone-waters,  over 
all  that  South-Eastern  region, — where  also  if  Monseigneur 
d'Artois  saw  good  to  break  in  from  Turin,  hot  welcome  might 
await  him  ;  but  whatsoever  Province  of  France  is  straitened 
for  grain,  or  vexed  with  a  mutinous  Parlement,  unconstitu- 
tional plotters.  Monarchic  Clubs,  or  any  other  Patriot  ailment, 
can  go  and  do  likewise,  or  even  do  better.  And  now,  especially, 
when  the  February  swearing  has  set  them  all  agog!  From 
Brittany  to  Burgundy,  on  most  Plains  of  France,  under  most 
City-walls,  it  is  a  blaring  of  trumpets,  waving  of  banners,  a 
Constitutional  manoeuvring:  under  the  vernal  skies,  while 
Nature  too  is  putting  forth  her  green  Hopes,  under  bright  sun- 
shine defaced  by  the  stormful  East ;  like  Patriotism  victorious, 
though  with  diflficulty,  over  Aristocracy  and  defect  of  grain ! 
There  march  and  constitutionally  wheel,  to  the  Qa-ira-mg  mood 
of  fife  and  drum,  under  their  tricolor  Municipals,  our  clear- 
gleaming  Phalanxes ;  or  halt,  with  uplifted  right-hand,  and 
artillery  salvoes  that  imitate  Jove's  thunder ;  and  all  the  Coun- 
try, and  metaphorically  all  "  the  Universe,"  is  looking  on. 
Wholly,  in  their  best  apparel,  brave  men,  and  beautifully 
dizened  women,  most  of  whom  have  lovers  there  ;  swearing, 
by  the  eternal  Heavens  and  this  green-growing  all-nutritive 
Earth,  that  France  is  free! 

a  Hist.  Pari.  vii.  4. 


2  88  CARLYLE  [1790 

Sweetest  days,  when  (astonishing  to  say)  mortals  have 
actually  met  together  in  communion  and  fellowship ;  and  man, 
were  it  only  once  through  long  despicable  centuries,  is  for 
moments  verily  the  brother  of  man ! — And  then  the  Deputa- 
tions to  the  National  Assembly,  with  high-flowing  descriptive 
harangue ;  to  M.  de  Lafayette,  and  the  Restorer ;  very  fre- 
quently moreover  to  the  Mother  of  Patriotism,  sitting  on  her 
stout  benches  in  that  Hall  of  the  Jacobins !  The  general  ear 
is  filled  with  Federation.  New  names  of  Patriots  emerge, 
which  shall  one  day  become  familiar:  Boyer-Fonfrede  elo- 
quent denunciator  of  a  rebellious  Bordeaux  Parlement ;  Max 
Isnard  eloquent  reporter  of  the  Federation  of  Draguignan ; 
eloquent  pair,  separated  by  the  whole  breadth  of  France,  who 
are  nevertheless  to  meet.  Ever  wider  burns  the  flame  of 
Federation ;  ever  wider  and  also  brighter.  Thus  the  Brittany 
and  Anjou  brethren  mention  a  Fraternity  of  all  true  French- 
men ;  and  go  the  length  of  invoking  "  perdition  and  death  " 
on  any  renegade:  moreover,  if  in  their  National-Assembly 
harangue,  they  glance  plaintively  at  the  marc  d'argent  which 
makes  so  many  citizens  passive,  they,  over  in  the  Mother- 
Society,  ask,  being  henceforth  themselves  "  neither  Bretons  nor 
Angevins  but  French,"  Why  all  France  has  not  one  Federa- 
tion, and  universal  Oath  of  Brotherhood,  once  for  all  lb  A 
most  pertinent  suggestion ;  dating  from  the  end  of  March. 
Which  pertinent  suggestion  the  whole  Patriot  world  cannot 
but  catch,  and  reverberate  and  agitate  till  it  become  lo^id; — 
which  in  that  case  the  Townhall  Municipals  had  better  take 
up,  and  meditate. 

Some  universal  Federation  seems  inevitable :  the  Where  is 
given  ;  clearly  Paris :  only  the  When,  the  How  ?  These  also 
productive  Time  will  give ;  is  already  giving.  For  always  as 
the  Federative  work  goes  on,  it  perfects  itself,  and  Patriot 
genius  adds  contribution  after  contribution.  Thus,  at  Lyons, 
in  the  end  of  the  May  month,  we  behold  as  many  as  fifty, 
or  some  say  sixty  thousand,  met  to  federate ;  and  a  multitude 
looking  on.  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  number.  From  dawn 
to  dusk !  For  our  Lyons  Guardsmen  took  rank,  at  five  in  the 
bright  dewy  morning;  came  pouring  in,  bright-gleaming,  to 
the  Quay  de  Rhone,  to  march  thence  to  the  Federation-field ; 
amid  wavings  of  hats  and  lady-handkerchiefs ;  glad  shoutings 
b  Reports,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  122-147). 


May]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  289 

of  some  two  hundred  thousand  Patriot  voices  and  hearts ;  the 
beautiful  and  brave !  Among  whom,  courting  no  notice,  and 
yet  the  notablest  of  all,  what  queen-like  Figure  is  this ;  w'ith 
her  escort  of  housefriends  and  Champagneux  the  Patriot 
Editor;  come  abroad  with  the  earliest?  Radiant  with  en- 
thusiasm are  those  dark  eyes,  is  that  strong  Minerva-face, 
looking  dignity  and  earnest  joy ;  joyfulest  she  where  all  are 
joyful.  It  is  Roland  de  la  Platriere's  Wife.c  Strict  elderly 
Roland,  King's  Inspector  of  Manufactures  here ;  and  now  like- 
wise, by  popular  choice,  the  strictest  of  our  new  Lyons  Munic- 
ipals :  a  man  who  has  gained  much,  if  worth  and  faculty 
be  gain ;  but,  above  all  things,  has  gained  to  wife  Phlipon 
the  Paris  Engraver's  daughter.  Reader,  mark  that  queenlike 
burgher-woman:  beautiful,  Amazonian-graceful  to  the  eye; 
more  so  to  the  mind.  Unconscious  of  her  worth  (as  all  worth 
is),  of  her  greatness,  of  her  crystal  clearness ;  genuine,  the 
creature  of  Sincerity  and  Nature,  in  an  age  of  Artificiality, 
Pollution  and  Cant ;  there,  in  her  still  completeness,  in  her  still 
invincibility,  she,  if  thou  knew  it,  is  the  noblest  of  all  living 
Frenchwomen, — and  will  be  seen,  one  day.  O,  blessed  rather 
while  «nseen,  even  of  herself!  For  the  present  she  gazes, 
nothing  doubting,  into  this  grand  theatricality;  and  thinks 
her  young  dreams  are  to  be  fulfilled. 

From  dawn  to  dusk,  as  we  said,  it  lasts ;  and  truly  a  sight 
like  few.  Flourishes  of  drums  and  trumpets  are  something: 
but  think  of  an  "  artificial  Rock  fifty  feet  high,"  all  cut  into 
crag-steps,  not  without  the  similitude  of  "  shrubs  " !  The  in- 
terior cavity, — for  in  sooth  it  is  made  of  deal, — stands  solemn, 
a  "  Temple  of  Concord :"  on  the  outer  summit  rises  "  a  Statue 
of  Liberty,"  colossal,  seen  for  miles,  with  her  Pike  and 
Phrygian  Cap,  and  civic  column ;  at  her  feet  a  Country's 
Altar,  '\4utcl  de  la  Patrie:  " — on  all  which  neither  deal-timber 
nor  lath-and-plaster,  with  paint  of  various  colors,  have  been 
spared.  But  fancy  then  the  banners  all  placed  on  the  steps  of 
the  Rock ;  high-mass  chanted ;  and  the  civic  oath  of  fifty 
thousand :  with  what  volcanic  outburst  of  sound  from  iron 
and  other  throats,  enough  to  frighten  back  the  very  Soane 
and  Rhone ;  and  how  the  brightest  fireworks,  and  balls,  and 
even  repasts  closed  in  that  night  of  the  gods  !(^     And  so  the 

c  Madame  Roland,  Memoires,  i.    (Discours  Preliminaire,  p.  23). 
d  Hist.  Pari.  xii.  274. 

Vol,  I. — 19 


290 


CARLYLE  [1790 


Lyons  Federation  vanishes  too,  swallowed  of  darkness ; — and 
yet  not  wholly,  for  our  brave  fair  Roland  was  there;  also 
she,  though  in  the  deepest  privacy,  writes  her  Narrative  of 
it  in  Chatnpagneux's  Courrier  de  Lyons;  a  piece  which  "  circu- 
lates to  the  extent  of  sixty  thousand;"  which  one  would  like 
now'  to  read. 

But  on  the  whole,  Paris,  we  may  see,  will  have  little  to 
devise;  will  only  have  to  borrow  and  apply.  And  then  as  to 
the  day,  what  day  of  all  the  calendar  is  fit,  if  the  Bastille 
Anniversary  be  not?  The  particular  spot  too,  it  is  easy  to 
see,  must  be  the  Champ-de-Mars ;  where  many  a  Julian  the 
Apostate  has  been  lifted  on  bucklers,  to  France's  or  the  world's 
sovereignty;  and  iron  Franks,  loud-clanging,  have  responded 
to  the  voice  of  a  Charlemagne ;  and  from  of  old  mere  sublimi- 
ties have  been  familiar. 


Chapter  IX. — Symbolic. 

How  natural,  in  all  decisive  circumstances,  is  Symbolic -7  ^^ 
Representations  to  all  kinds  of  men!  Nay,  what  is  man's-/ 
whole  terrestrial  Life  but  a  Symbolic  Representation,  and  , 
making  visible,  of  the  Celestial  invisible  Force  that  is  in  him?j 
'By  act  and  word  he  strives  to  do  it;  with  sincerity,  if  pos- 
:,.  sible ;  failing  that,  with  theatricality,  which  latter  also  may 
have  its  meaning.  An  Almacks  Masquerade  is  not  nothing; 
in  more  genial  ages,  your  Christmas  Guisings,  Feasts  of  the 
Ass,  Abbots  of  Unreason,  were  a  considerable  something: 
sincere  sport  they  were ;  as  Almacks  may  still  be  sincere  wish 
for  sport.  But  what,  on  the  other  hand,  must  not  sincere 
earnest  have  been ;  say,  a  Hebrew  Feast  of  Tabernacles  have 
been!  A  whole  Nation  gathered,  in  the  name  of  the  Highest, 
under  the  eye  of  the  Highest ;  imagination  itself  flagging 
under  the  reality ;  and  all  noblest  Ceremony  as  yet  not  grown 
ceremonial,  but  solemn,  significant  to  the  outmost  fringe ! 
Neither,  in  modern  private  life,  are  theatrical  scenes,  of  tear- 
ful women  wetting  whole  ells  of  cambric  in  concert,  of  im- 
passioned bushy-whiskered  youth  threatening  suicide,  and 
suchlike,  to  be  so  entirely  detested:  drop  thou  a  tear  over 
them  thyself  rather. 

At  anv  rate,  one  can  remark  that  no  Nation  will  throw-by 


I790]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  291 

its  work,  and  deliberately  go  out  to  make  a  scene,  without 
meaning  something  thereby.  For  indeed  no  scenic  individual, 
with  knavish  hypocritical  views,  will  take  the  trouble  to  solil- 
oquize a  scene :  and  now  consider,  is  not  a  scenic  Nation 
placed  precisely  in  that  predicament  of  soliloquizing ;  for  its 
own  behoof  alone ;  to  solace  its  own  sensibilities,  maudlin  or 
other? — Yet  in  this  respect,  of  readiness  for  scenes,  the  dif- 
ference of  Nations,  as  of  men,  is  very  great.  If  our  Saxon 
Puritanic  friends,  for  example,  swore  and  signed  their  National 
Covenant,  without  discharge  of  gunpowder,  or  the  beating  of 
any  drum,  in  a  dingy  Covenant-Close  of  the  Edinburgh  High- 
street,  in  a  mean  room,  where  men  now  drink  mean  liquor, 
it  was  consistent  with  their  ways  so  to  swear  it.  Our  Gallic- 
Encyclopedic  friends,  again,  must  have  a  Champ-de-Mars, 
seen  of  all  the  world,  or  universe ;  and  such  a  Scenic  Exhibi- 
tion, to  which  the  Coliseum  Amphitheatre  was  but  a  stroller's 
barn,  as  this  old  Globe  of  ours  had  never  or  hardly  ever  beheld. 
Which  method  also  we  reckon  natural,  then  and  there.  Nor 
perhaps  was  the  respective  keeping  of  these  two  Oaths  far 
out  of  due  proportion  to  such  respective  display  in  taking 
them :  inverse  proportion,  namely.  For  the  theatricality  of  a 
People  goes  in  a  compound  ratio:  ratio  indeed  of  their  trust- 
fulness, sociability,  fervency;  but  then  also  of  their  excita- 
bility, of  their  porosity,  not  continent;  or  say,  of  their  ex- 
plosiveness,  hot-flashing,  but  which  does  not  last. 

How  true  also,  once  more,  is  it  that  no  man  or  Nation  of 
men,  conscious  of  doing  a  great  thing,  was  ever,  in  that  thing, 
doing  other  than  a  small  one!  O  Champ-de-Mars  Federa- 
tion, with  three  hundred  drummers,  twelve  hundred  wind- 
musicians,  and  artillery  planted  on  height  after  height  to  boom 
the  tidings  of  it  all  over  France,  in  few  minutes!  Could  no 
Atheist-Naigeon  contrive  to  discern,  eighteen  centuries  ofif, 
those  Thirteen  most  poor  mean-ilressed  men,  at  frugal  Supper, 
in  a  mean  Jewish  dwelling,  with  no  syml)ol  but  hearts  god- 
initiated  into  the  "  Divine  depth  of  Sorrow,"  and  a  Do  this 
in  remembrance  of  me; — and  so  cease  that  small  difficult  crow- 
ing of  his,  if  he  were  not  doomed  to  it  ? 


292  CARLYLE  [1790 


Chapter  X. — Mankind. 

Pardonable  are  human  theatricalities ;  nay,  perhaps  touch- 
ing-, like  the  passionate  utterance  of  a  tongue  which  with  sin- 
cerity stammers;  of  a  head  which  with  insincerity  babbles, — 
having  gone  distracted.  Yet,  in  comparison  with  unpremedi- 
tated outbursts  of  Nature,  such  as  an  Insurrection  of  Women, 
how  foisonless,  unedifying,  undelightful ;  like  small  ale  palled, 
like  an  effervescence  that  has  effervesced !  Such  scenes,  coming 
of  forethought,  were  they  world-great,  and  never  so  cunningly 
devised,  are  at  bottom  mainly  pasteboard  and  paint.  But  the 
others  are  original ;  emitted  from  the  great  everliving  heart 
of  Nature  herself:  what  figure  they  will  assume  is  unspeak- 
ably significant.  To  us,  therefore,  let  the  French  National 
Solemn  League  and  Federation  be  the  highest  recorded  triumph 
of  the  Thespian  Art :  triumphantly  surely,  since  the  whole 
Pit,  which  was  of  Twenty-five  Millions,  not  only  claps  hands, 
but  does  itself  spring  on  the  boards  and  passionately  set  to 
playing  there.  And  being  such,  be  it  treated  as  such :  with 
sincere  cursory  admiration  ;  with  wonder  from  afar.  A  whole 
Nation  gone  mumming  deserves  so  much ;  but  deserves  not 
that  loving  minuteness  a  Menadic  Insurrection  did.  Much 
more  let  prior,  and  as  it  were  rehearsal  scenes  of  Federation 
come  and  go,  henceforward,  as  they  list ;  and,  on  Plains  and 
under  City-walls,  innumerable  regimental  bands  blare-off  into 
the  Inane,  without  note  from  us. 

One  scene,  however,  the  hastiest  reader  will  momentarily 
pause  on :  that  of  Anacharsis  Clootz  and  the  Collective  sinful 
Posterity  of  Adam. — For  a  Patriot  Municipality  has  now,  on 
the  4th  of  June,  got  its  plan  concocted,  and  got  it  sanctioned 
by  National  Assembly;  a  Patriot  King  assenting;  to  whom, 
were  he  even  free  to  dissent,  Federative  harangues,  overflow- 
ing with  loyalty,  have  doubtless  a  transient  sweetness.  There 
shall  come  Deputed  National  Guards,  so  many  in  the  hundred, 
from  each  of  the  Eighty-three  Departments  of  France.  Like- 
wise from  all  Naval  and  Military  King's  Forces  shall  Deputed 
quotas  come ;  such  Federation  of  National  with  Royal  Soldier 
has,  taking  place  spontaneously,  been  already  seen  and  sanc- 
tioned. For  the  rest,  it  is  hoped,  as  many  as  forty  thousand 
may  arrive ;    expenses  to  be  borne  by  the  Deputing  District ; 


Juneigth]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  293 

of  all  which  let  District  and  Department  take  thought,  and 
elect  fit  men, — whom  the  Paris  brethren  will  fly  to  meet  and 
welcome. 

Now,  therefore,  judge  if  our  Patriot  Artists  are  busy; 
taking  deep  counsel  how  to  make  the  Scene  worthy  of  a 
look  from  the  Universe!  As  many  as  fifteen  thousand  men, 
spadesmen,  barrow-men,  stonebuilders,  rammers,  with  their 
engineers,  arc  at  work  on  the  Champ-de-Mars ;  hollowing  it 
out  into  a  National  Amphitheatre,  fit  for  such  solemnity.  For 
one  may  hope  it  will  be  annual  and  perennial ;  a  "  Feast  of 
Pikes,  Fete  des  Piques"  notablest  among  the  hightides  of 
the  year:  in  any  case,  ought  not  a  scenic  Free  Nation  to 
have  some  permanent  National  Amphitheatre?  The  Champ- 
de-Mars  is  getting  hollowed  out ;  and  the  daily  talk  and  the 
nightly  dream  in  most  Parisian  heads  is  of  Federation  and 
that  only.  Federate  Deputies  are  already  under  way.  Na- 
tional Assembly,  what  with  its  natural  work,  what  with  hear- 
ing and  answering  harangues  of  these  Federates,  of  this 
Federation,  will  have  enough  to  do !  Harangue  of  "  Ameri- 
can Committee,"  among  whom  is  that  faint  figure  of  Paul 
Jones  as  "  with  the  stars  dim-twinkling  through  it," — come 
to  congratulate  us  on  the  prospect  of  such  auspicious  day. 
Harangue  of  Bastille  Conquerors,  come  to  "  renounce  "  any 
special  recompense,  any  peculiar  place  at  the  solemnity ; — since 
the  Centre  Grenadiers  rather  grumble.  Harangue  of  "  Tennis- 
Court  Club,"  who  enter  with  far-gleaming  Brass-plate,  aloft 
on  a  pole,  and  the  Tennis-Court  Oath  engraved  theron ;  which 
far-gleaming  Brass-plate  they  purpose  to  affix  solemnly  in 
the  Versailles  original  locality,  on  the  20th  of  this  month, 
which  is  the  anniversary,  as  a  deathless  memorial,  for  some 
years :  they  will  then  dine,  as  they  come  back,  in  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne  ;a — cannot,  however,  do  it  without  apprising  the 
world.  To  such  things  does  the  august  National  Assembly  ever 
and  anon  cheerfully  listen,  suspending  its  regenerative  labors; 
and  with  some  touch  of  impromptu  eloquence,  make  friendly 
reply ; — as  indeed  the  wont  has  long  been ;  for  it  is  a  gesticu- 
lating, sympathetic  People,  and  has  a  heart,  and  wears  it 
on  its  sleeve. 

In  which  circumstances,  it  occurred  to  the  mind  of  Ana- 
charsis  Clootz,  that  while  so  much  was  embodying  itself  into 
a  See  Deux  Amis,  v.  122;  Hist.  Pari  &c. 


294  CARLYLE  [1790 

Club  or  Committee,  and  perorating  applauded,  there  yet  re- 
mained a  greater  and  greatest ;  of  which,  if  it  also  took  body 
and  perorated,  what  might  not  the  effect  be:  Humankind 
namely,  le  Genre  Hurnain  itself!  In  what  rapt  creative  mo- 
ment the  Thought  rose  in  Anacharsis's  soul ;  all  his  throes, 
while  he  went  about  giving  shape  and  birth  to  it ;  how  he 
w^as  sneered  at  by  cold  worldlings ;  but  did  sneer  again,  being 
a  man  of  polished  sarcasm ;  and  moved  to  and  fro  persuasive 
in  coffeehouse  and  soiree,  and  dived  down  assiduous-obscure 
in  the  great  deep  of  Paris,  making  his  Thought  a  Fact :  of 
all  this  the  spiritual  biographies  of  that  period  say  nothing. 
Enough  that  on  the  19th  evening  of  June  1790,  the  sun's 
slant  rays  lighted  a  spectacle  such  as  our  foolish  little  Planet 
has  not  often  had  to  show :  AnacharsisClootz  entering  the  august 
Salle  de  Manege,  with  the  Human  Species  at  his  heels,  Swedes, 
Spaniards,  Polacks ;  Turks,  Chaldeans,  Greeks,  dwellers  in 
Mesopotamia ;  behold  them  all ;  they  have  come  to  claim  place 
in  the  grand  Federation,  having  an  undoubted  interest  in  it. 

"  Our  Ambassador  titles,"  said  the  fervid  Clootz,  "  are  not 
written  on  parchment,  but  on  the  living  hearts  of  all  men." 
These  whiskered  Polacks,  long-fllowing  turbaned  Ishmaelites, 
astrological  Chaldeans,  who  stand  so  mute  here,  let  them  plead 
with  you,  august  Senators,  more  eloquently  than  eloquence 
could.  They  are  the  mute  representatives  of  their  tongue- 
tied,  befettered,  heavy-laden  Nations;  who  from  out  of  that 
dark  bewilderment  gaze  wistful,  amazed,  with  half-incredulous 
hope,  towards  you,  and  this  your  bright  light  of  a  French 
Federation :  bright  particular  daystar,  the  herald  of  universal 
day.  We  claim  to  stand  there,  as  mute  monuments,  pathetically 
adumbrative  of  much. — From  bench  and  gallery  comes  "  re- 
peated applause ;"  for  what  august  Senator  but  is  flattered 
even  by  the  very  shadow  of  Human  Species  depending  on 
him.  From  President  Sieyes,  who  presides  this  remarkable 
fortnight,  in  spite  of  his  small  voice,  there  comes  eloquent 
though  shrill  reply.  Anacharsis  and  the  "  Foreigners  Com- 
mittee "  shall  have  place  at  the  Federation ;  on  condition  of 
telling  their  respective  Peoples  what  they  see  there.  In  the 
mean  time,  we  invite  them  to  the  "  honors  of  the  sitting, 
honneur  de  la  seance."  A  long-flowing  Turk,  for  rejoinder, 
bows  with  Eastern  solenmity,  and  utters  articulate  sounds : 
but  owing  to  his  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  French  dialect,^ 
b  Monitcur,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  xii.  283). 


Jnne]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  295 

his  words  are  like  spilt  water ;  the  thought  he  had  in  him  re- 
mains conjectural  to  this  day. 

Anacharsis  and  Mankind  accept  the  honors  of  the  sitting; 
and  have  forthwith,  as  the  old  Newspapers  still  testify,  the 
satisfaction  to  see  several  things.  First  and  chief,  on  the 
motion  of  Lameth,  Lafayette,  Saint-Fargeau  and  other  Patriot 
Nobles,  let  the  others  repugn  as  they  w^ill:  all  Titles  of  No- 
bility, from  Duke  to  Esquire,  or  lower,  are  henceforth  abolished. 
Then,  in  like  manner.  Livery  Servants,  or  rather  the  Livery 
of  Servants,  Neither,  for  the  future,  shall  any  man  or  woman, 
self-styled  noble,  be  "  incensed," — foolishly  fumigated  with 
incense,  in  Church  ;  as  the  wont  has  been.  In  a  word.  Feudal- 
ism being  dead  these  ten  months,  why  should  her  empty  trap- 
pings and  scutcheons  survive?  the  very  Coats-of-arms  will 
require  to  be  obliterated ; — and  yet  Cassandra-Marat  on  this 
and  the  other  coach-panel  notices  that  they  "  are  but  painted 
over,"  and  threaten  to  peer  through  again. 

So  that  henceforth  De  Lafayette  is  but  the  Sieur  Motier, 
and  Saint-Fargeau  is  plain  Michel  Lepelletier ;  and  Mirabeau 
soon  after  has  to  say  huffingly,  "  With  your  Riquetti  you  have 
set  Europe  at  cross-purposes  for  three  days."  For  his  Count- 
hood  is  not  indifferent  to  this  man ;  which  indeed  the  ad- 
miring People  treat  him  with  to  the  last.  But  let  extreme 
Patriotism  rejoice,  and  chiefly  Anacharsis  and  Mankind ;  for 
now  it  seems  to  be  taken  for  granted  that  one  Adam  is  Father 
of  us  all ! — 

Such  was,  in  historical  accuracy,  the  famed  feat  of  Ana- 
charsis. Thus  did  the  most  extensive  of  Public  Bodies  fincf 
a  sort  of  spokesman.  Whereby  at  least  we  may  judge  of  one 
thing:  v/hat  a  humor  the  once  sniffing  mocking  City  of  Paris 
and  Baron  Clootz  had  got  into ;  when  such  exhibition  could 
appear  a  propriety,  next  door  to  a  sublimity.  It  is  true,  Envy 
did,  in  after-times,  pervert  this  success  of  Anacharsis ;  making 
him,  from  incidental  "  Speaker  of  the  Foreign-Nations  Com- 
mittee," claim  to  be  official  permanent  "  Speaker,  Oratenr,  of 
the  Human  Species,"  which  he  only  deserved  to  be ;  and  al- 
leging, calumniously,  that  his  astrological  Chaldeans,  and  the 
rest,  were  a  mere  French  tagrag-and-bobtail  disguised  for  the 
nonce;  and,  in  short,  sneering  and  fleering  at  him  in  her  cold 
barren  way:  all  which  however,  he,  the  man  In-  was,  could 
receive  on  thick  enough  panoply,  or  even  rebound  therefrom, 
and  also  go  his  way. 


296  CARLYLE  [1790 

Most  extensive  of  Public  Bodies,  we  may  call  it ;  and  also 
the  most  unexpected :  for  who  could  have  thought  to  see  All 
Nations  in  the  Tuileries  Riding-Hall  ?  But  so  it  is ;  and  truly 
as  strange  things  may  happen  when  a  whole  People  goes 
mumming  and  miming.  Hast  not  thou  thyself  perchance 
seen  diademed  Cleopatra,  daughter  of  the  Ptolemies,  plead- 
ing, almost  with  bended  knee,  in  unheroic  tea-parlor,  or  dimlit 
retail-shop,  to  inflexible  gross  Burghal  Dignitary,  for  leave 
to  reign  and  die ;  being  dressed  for  it,  and  moneyless,  with 
small  children ; — while  suddenly  Constables  have  shut  the 
Thespian  barn,  and  her  Antony  pleaded  in  vain?  Such  visual 
spectra  flit  across  this  Earth,  if  the  Thespian  Stage  be  rudely 
interfered  with:  but  much  more,  when,  as  was  said.  Pit  jumps 
on  Stage,  then  is  it  verily,  as  in  Herr  Tieck's  Drama,  a  Ver- 
kehrte  Welt,  or  World  Topsy-turvied ! 

Having  seen  the  Human  Species  itself,  to  have  seen  the 
"  Dean  of  the  Human  Species  "  ceased  now  to  be  a  miracle. 
Such  "  Doyen  du  Genre  Hiimain,  Eldest  of  Men,"  had  shown 
himself  there,  in  these  weeks:  Jean  Claude  Jacob,  a  born 
Serf,  deputed  from  his  native  Jura  Mountains  to  thank  the 
National  Assembly  for  enfranchising  them.  On  his  bleached 
worn  face  are  ploughed  the  furrowings  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  years.  He  has  heard  dim  patois-idXk,  of  immortal 
Grand-Monarch  victories ;  of  a  burned  Palatinate,  as  he  toiled 
and  moiled  to  make  a  little  speck  of  this  Earth  greener;  of 
Cevennes  Dragoonings ;  of  Marlborough  going  to  the  war. 
Four  generations  have  bloomed  out,  and  loved  and  hated,  and 
rustled  off:  he  was  forty-six  when  Louis  Fourteenth  died. 
The  Assembly,  as  one  man,  spontaneously  rose,  and  did  rever- 
ence to  the  Eldest  of  the  World ;  old  Jean  is  to  take  seance 
among  them,  honorably,  with  covered  head.  He  gazes  feebly 
there,  with  his  old  eyes,  on  that  new  wonder-scene ;  dream- 
like to  him,  and  uncertain,  wavering  amid  fragments  of  old 
memories  and  dreams.  For  Time  is  all  growing  unsubstan- 
tial, dreamlike ;  Jean's  eyes  and  mind  are  weary,  and  about 
to  close, — and  open  on  a  far  other  wonder-scene,  which  shall 
be  real.  Patriot  Subscription,  Royal  Pension  was  got  for  him, 
and  he  returned  home  glad ;  but  in  two  months  more  he  left 
it  all,  and   went  on  his  unknown  way.f 

c  Deux  Amis,  iv.  iii. 


July  ist]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  297 

Chapter  XI. — As  in  the  Age  of  Gold. 

Meanwhile  to  Paris,  ever  going  and  returning,  day  after 
day,  and  all  day  long,  towards  that  Field  of  Mars,  it  becomes 
painfully  apparent  that  the  spade  work  there  cannot  be  got 
done  in  time.  There  is  such  an  area  of  it ;  three  hundred 
thousand  square  feet:  for  from  the  Ecole  Militaire  (which 
will  need  to  be  done  up  in  wood  with  balconies  and  galleries) 
westward  to  the  Gate  by  the  River  (where  also  shall  be  wood, 
in  triumphal  arches),  we  count  some  thousand  yards  of  length ; 
and  for  breadth,  from  this  umbrageous  Avenue  of  eight  rows, 
on  the  South  side,  to  that  corresponding  one  on  the  North, 
some  thousand  feet  more  or  less.  All  this  to  be  scooped  out, 
and  wheeled  up  in  slope  along  the  sides ;  high  enough ;  for 
it  must  be  rammed  down  there,  and  shaped  stair-wise  into  as 
many  as  "  thirty  ranges  of  convenient  seats,"  firm-trimmed  with 
turf,  covered  with  enduring  timber; — and  then  our  huge 
pyramidal  Fatherland's  Altar,  Autel  de  la  Patrie,  in  the  centre, 
also  to  be  raised  and  stair-stepped.  Force-work  with  a  ven- 
geance ;  it  is  a  World's  Amphitheatre !  There  are  but  fifteen 
days  good :  and  at  this  languid  rate,  it  might  take  half  as 
many  weeks.  What  is  singular  too,  the  spadesmen  seem  to 
work  lazily ;  they  will  not  work  double-tides,  even  for  offer 
of  more  wages,  though  their  tide  is  but  seven  hours ;  they 
declare  angrily  that  the  human  tabernacle  requires  occasional 
rest! 

Is  it  Aristocrats  secretly  bribing?  Aristocrats  were  capable 
of  that.  Only  six  months  since,  did  not  evidence  get  afloat 
that  subterranean  Paris, — for  we  stand  over  quarries  and  cata- 
combs, dangerously,  as  it  were  midway  between  Heaven  and 
the  Abyss,  and  are  hollow  underground, — was  charged  with 
gunpowder,  which  should  make  us  "  leap  "  ?  Till  a  Corde- 
liers Deputation  actually  went  to  examine,  and  found  it — 
carried  off  again  !«  An  accursed,  incurable  brood  ;  all  asking 
for  "  passports,"  in  these  sacred  days.  Trouble,  of  rioting, 
chateau-burning,  is  in  the  Limousin  and  elsewhere  ;  for  they 
are  busy !  Between  the  best  of  Peoples  and  the  best  of  Restorer 
Kings  they  would  sow  grudges ;  with  what  a  fiend's  grin 
would  they  see  this  Federation,  looked  for  by  the  Universe, 

fail! 

0  23(1  December  1789  (Newspapers  in  Ilist.  Pari.  iv.  44). 


298  CARLYLE  [1790 

Fail  for  want  of  spadework,  however,  it  shall  not.  He  that 
has  four  limbs  and  a  French  heart  can  do  spadework ;  and 
will !  On  the  first  July  Monday,  scarcely  has  the  signal-cannon 
boomed;  scarcely  have  the  languescent  mercenary  Fifteen 
Thousand  laid  down  their  tools,  and  the  eyes  of  onlookers 
turned  sorrowfully  to  the  still  high  Sun ;  when  this  and  the 
other  Patriot,  fire  in  his  eye,  snatches  barrow  and  mattock, 
and  himself  begins  indignantly  wheeling.  Whom  scores  and 
then  hundreds  follow ;  and  soon  a  volunteer  Fifteen  Thousand 
are  shovelling  and  trundling;  with  the  heart  of  giants:  and 
all  in  right  order,  with  that  extemporaneous  adroitness  of 
theirs :  whereby  such  a  lift  has  been  given,  worth  three  mer- 
cenary ones ; — which  may  end  when  the  late  twilight  thickens, 
in  triumph-shouts,  heard  or  heard  of  beyond  Montmartre ! 

A  sympathetic  population  will  zvait,  next  day,  with  eager- 
ness, till  the  tools  are  free.  Or  why  wait?  Spades  elsewhere 
exist !  And  so  now  bursts  forth  that  effulgence  of  Parisian 
enthusiasm,  good-heartedness  and  brotherly  love ;  such  if 
Chroniclers  are  trustworthy,  as  was  not  witnessed  since  the 
Age  of  Gold.  Paris,  male  and  female,  precipitates  itself  to- 
wards its  Southwest  extremity,  spade  on  shoulder.  Streams 
of  men,  without  order ;  or  in  order,  as  ranked  fellow-crafts- 
men, as  natural  or  accidental  reunions,  march  towards  the 
Field  of  Mars.  Three-deep  these  march ;  to  the  sound  of 
stringed  music ;  preceded  by  young  girls  with  green  boughs 
and  tricolor  streamers :  they  have  shouldered,  soldier-wise, 
their  shovels  and  picks ;  and  with  one  throat  are  singing  ga- 
ira.  Yes,  pardieu  ga-ira,  cry  the  passengers  on  the  streets. 
All  corporate  Guilds,  and  public  and  private  Bodies  of  Citi- 
zens, from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  march ;  the  very 
Hawkers,  one  finds,  have  ceased  bawling  for  one  day.  The 
neighboring  Villages  turn  out;  their  able  men  come  march- 
ing, to  village  fiddle  or  tambourine  and  triangle,  under  their 
Mayor,  or  Mayor  and  Curate,  who  also  walk  bespaded,  and 
in  tricolor  sash.  As  many  as  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand workers ;  nay  at  certain  seasons,  as  some  count,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand ;  for,  in  the  afternoon  especially, 
what  mortal  but,  finishing  his  hasty  day's  work,  would  run ! 
A  stirring  City:  from  the  time  you  reach  the  Place  Louis- 
Quinze,  southward  over  the  River,  by  all  Avenues,  it  is  one 
living  throng.     So  many  workers ;    and  no  mercenary  mock- 


Feb.  2d-i2th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  299 

workers,  but  real  ones  that  lie  freely  to  it:  each  Patriot 
stretches  himself  against  the  stubborn  glebe ;  hews  and  wheels 
with  the  whole  weight  that  is  in  him. 

Amiable  infants,  aimahles  cnfaiis!  They  do  the  "police  de 
r atelier  "  too,  the  guidance  and  governance,  themselves ;  with 
that  ready  will  of  theirs,  with  that  extemporaneous  adroit- 
ness. It  is  a  true  brethren's  work ;  all  distinctions  confounded, 
abolished;  as  it  was  in  the  beginning,  when  Adam  himself 
delved.  Long-frocked  tonsured  Monks,  with  short-skirted 
Water-carriers,  with  swallow-tailed  well-frizzled  Incroyables 
of  a  Patriot  turn ;  dark  Charcoalmen,  meal-white  Peruke- 
makers  ;  or  Peruke-wearers,  for  Advocate  and  Judge  are 
there,  and  all  Heads  of  Districts :  sober  Nuns  sisterlike  with 
flaunting  Nymphs  of  the  Opera,  and  females  in  common 
circumstances  named  unfortunate:  the  patriot  Ragpicker,  and 
perfumed  dweller  in  palaces ;  for  Patriotism,  like  New-birth, 
and  also  like  Death,  levels  all.  The  Printers  have  come 
marching,  Prudhomme's  all  in  Paper-caps  with  Revolutions 
de  Paris  printed  on  them ; — as  Camille  notes ;  wishing  that 
in  these  great  days  there  should  be  a  Facte  des  Ecrivains  too, 
or  Federation  of  Able  Editors.*  Beautiful  to  see !  The  snowy 
linen  and  delicate  pantaloon  alternates  with  the  soiled. check- 
shirt  and  bushel-breeches ;  for  both  have  cast  their  coats,  and 
under  both  are  four  limbs  and  a  set  of  Patriot  muscles.  There 
do  they  pick  and  shovel ;  or  bend  forward,  yoked  in  long 
strings  to  box-barrow  or  overloaded  tumbril ;  joyous,  with 
one  mind.  Abbe  Sieyes  is  seen  pulling,  wiry,  vehement,  if 
too  light  for  draught ;  by  the  side  of  Beauharnais,  who  shall 
get  Kings  though  he  be  none.  Abbe  Ad^aury  did  not  pull ; 
but  the  Charcoalmen  brought  a  mummer  guised  like  him, 
and  he  had  to  pull  in  effigy.  Let  no  august  Senator  disdain 
the  work:  Mayor  Bailly,  Generalissimo  Lafayette  are  there; 
— and,  alas,  shall  be  there  again  another  day!  The  King  him- 
self comes  to  see:  sky-rending  Vive-le-roi!  "and  suddenly 
with  shouldered  spades  they  form  a  guard  of  honor  round 
him."  Whosoever  can  come  comes;  to  work,  or  to  look,  and 
bless  the  work. 

Whole  families  have  come.  One  whole  family  we  see 
clearly  of  three  generations :  the  father  picking,  the  mother 
shovelling,  the  young  ones  wheeling  assiduous ;  old  grand- 
fe  See  Newspapers,  &c.    (in  Hist.  Pari.  vi.  381-406). 


d 


oo  CARLYLE  [1790 


father,  hoary  with  ninety-three  years,  holds  in  his  arms  the 
youngest  of  a.\l:c  frisky,  not  helpful  this  one;  who  never- 
theless may  tell  it  to  his  grand-children ;  and  how  the  Future 
and  the  Past  alike  looked  on,  and  with  failing  or  with  half- 
formed  voice,  faltered  their  ga-ira.  A  vintner  has  wheeled 
in,  on  Patriot  truck,  beverage  of  wine :  "  Drink  not,  my 
brothers,  if  ye  are  not  thirsty ;  that  your  cask  may  last  the 
longer :"  neither  did  any  drink  but  men  "  evidently  exhausted." 
A  dapper  Abbe  looks  on,  sneering :  "  To  the  barrow !  "  cry 
several ;  whom  he,  lest  a  worse  thing  befall  him,  obeys ; 
nevertheless  one  wiser  Patriot  barrowman,  arriving  now, 
interposes  his  "  arrctez;"  setting  down  his  own  barrow,  he 
snatches  the  Abbe's;  trundles  it  fast,  like  an  infected  thing, 
forth  of  the  Champ-de-Mars  circuit,  and  discharges  it  there. 
Thus  too  a  certain  person  (of  some  quality,  or  private  capital, 
to  appearance),  entering  hastily,  flings  down  his  coat,  waist- 
coat and  two  watches,  and  is  rushing  to  the  thick  of  the  work : 
"  But  your  watches  ?  "  cries  the  general  voice. — "  Does  one 
distrust  his  brothers?"  answers  he;  nor  were  the  watches 
stolen.  How  beautiful  is  noble-sentiment:  like  gossamer 
gauze,  beautiful  and  cheap ;  which  will  stand  no  tear  and 
wear !  Beautiful  cheap  gossamer  gauze,  thou  film-shadow  of 
a  raw-material  of  Virtue,  which  art  not  woven,  nor  likely  to 
be,  into  Duty ;  thou  art  better  than  nothing,  and  also  worse ! 
Young  Boarding-school  Boys,  College  Students,  shout  Vive 
la  Nation,  and  regret  that  they  have  yet  "  only  their  sweat 
to  give."  What  say  we  of  Boys?  Beautifulest  Hebes ;  the 
loveliest  of  Paris,  in  their  light  air-robes,  with  riband-girdle 
of  tricolor,  are  there ;  shoveling  and  wheeling  with  the  rest ; 
their  Hebe  eyes  brighter  with  enthusiasm,  and  long  hair  in 
beautiful  dishevelment ;  broad-pressed  are  their  small  fingers ; 
but  they  make  the  patriot  barrow  go,  and  even  force  it  to  the 
summit  of  the  slope  (with  a  little  tracing,  which  what  man's 
arm  were  not  too  happy  to  lend?) — then  bound  down  with 
it  again,  and  go  for  more ;  with  their  long  locks  and  tricolors 
blown  black ;  graceful  as  the  rosy  Hours.  O,  as  that  evening 
Sun  fell  over  the  Champ-de-Mars,  and  tinted  with  fire  the 
thick  umbrageous  boscage  that  shelters  it  on  this  hand  and  on 
that,  and  struck  direct  on  those  Domes  and  two-and-forty  Win- 
dows of  the  Ecole  Militaire,  and  made  them  all  of  burnished 

c  Mercier,  ii.  76,  &c. 


Feb.  2d-i2th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  301 

gold, — saw  he  on  his  wide  zodiac  road  other  such  sight?  A 
living  garden  spotted  and  dotted  with  such  flowerage ;  all  colors 
of  the  prism ;  the  beautifulest  blent  friendly  with  the  usefulest ; 
all  glowing  and  working  brotherlike  there  under  one  warm  feel- 
ing, were  it  but  for  days ;  once  and  no  second  time !  But  Night 
is  sinking;  these  Nights,  too,  into  Eternity.  The  hastiest 
traveller  Versailles-ward  has  drawn  bridle  on  the  heights  of 
Chaillot :  and  looked  for  moments  over  the  River ;  reporting  at 
Versailles  what  he  saw,  not  without  tears. c^ 

Meanwhile,  from  all  points  of  the  compass,  Federates  are  ar- 
riving :  fervid  children  of  the  South,  "  who  glory  in  their  Mira- 
beau  ;  "  considerate  North-blooded  Mountaineers  of  Jura ;  sharp 
Bretons,  with  their  Gaelic  suddenness  ;  Normans,  not  to  be  over- 
reached in  bargain :  all  now  animated  with  one  noblest  fire  of 
Patriotism.  Whom  the  Paris  brethren  march  forth  to  receive ; 
with  military  solemnities,  with  fraternal  embracing,  and  a 
hospitality  worthy  of  the  heroic  ages.  They  assist  at  the  As- 
sembly's Debates,  these  Federates ;  the  Galleries  are  reserved 
for  them.  They  assist  in  the  toils  of  the  Champ-de-Mars  ;  each 
new  troop  will  put  its  hand  to  the  spade ;  lift  a  hod  of  earth  on 
the  Altar  of  the  Fatherland.  But  the  flourishes  of  rhetoric,  for 
it  is  a  gesticulating  People ;  the  moral-sublime  of  those  Ad- 
dresses to  an  august  Assembly,  to  a  Patriot  Restorer !  Our 
Breton  Captain  of  Federates  kneels  even,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm, 
and  gives  up  his  sword  ;  he  wet-eyed  to  a  King  wet-eyed.  Poor 
Louis !  These,  as  he  said  afterwards,  were  among  the  bright 
days  of  his  life. 

Reviews  also  there  must  be ;  royal  Federate-reviews,  with 
King,  Queen  and  tricolor  Court  looking  on :  at  lowest,  if,  as  is 
too  common,  it  rains,  our  Federate  Volunteers  will  file  through 
the  inner  gateways,  Royalty  standing  dry.  Nay  there,  should 
some  stop  occur,  the  beautifulest  fingers  in  France  may  take  you 
softly  by  the  lapel,  and,  in  mild  flute-voice,  ask :  "  Monsieur,  of 
what  Province  are  you?  "  Happy  he  who  can  reply,  chivalrous- 
ly lowering  his  sword's  point,  "  Madame,  from  the  Province 
your  ancestors  reigned  over."  He  that  happy  "  Provincial  Ad- 
vocate," now  Provincial  Federate,  shall  be  rewarded  by  a  sun- 
smile,  and  such  melodious  glad  words  addressed  to  a  King : 
"  Sire,  these  are  your  faithful  Lorrainers."  Cheerier  verily,  in 
these  holidays,  is  this  "  skyblue  faced  with  red  "  of  a  National 

d  Mercier,  ii.  81. 


302  CARLYLE  [1790 

Guardsman,  than  the  dull  black  and  gray  of  a  Provincial  Advo- 
cate, which  in  workdays  one  was  used  to.  For  the  same  thrice- 
blessed  Lorrainer  shall,  this  evening,  stand  sentry  at  a  Queen's 
door ;  and  feel  that  he  could  die  a  thousand  deaths  for  her :  then 
again,  at  the  outer  gate,  and  even  a  third  time,  she  shall  see  him ; 
nay  he  will  make  her  do  it ;  presenting  arms  with  emphasis, 
"  making  his  musket  jingle  again :  "  and  in  her  salute  there  shall 
again  be  a  sun-smile,  and  that  little  blonde-locked  too  hasty 
Dauphin  shall  be  admonished,  "  Salute,  then.  Monsieur ;  don't 
be  unpolite ;  "  and  therewith  she,  like  a  bright  Sky-wanderer  or 
Planet  with  her  little  Moon,  issues  forth  peculiar-^" 

But  at  night,  when  Patriot  spadework  is  over,  figure  the 
sacred  rites  of  hospitality !  Lepelletier  Saint-Fargeau,  a  mere 
private  senator,  but  with  great  possessions,  has  daily  his  "hun- 
dred dinner-guests ;  "  the  table  of  Generalissimo  Lafayette  may 
double  that  number.  In  lowly  parlor,  as  in  lofty  saloon,  the 
wine-cup  passes  round ;  crowned  by  the  smiles  of  Beauty ;  be 
it  of  lightly-tripping  Grisette  or  of  high-sailing  Dame,  for  both 
equally  have  beauty,  and  smiles  precious  to  the  brave. 


Chapter  XII. — Sound  and  Smoke. 

And  so  now,  in  spite  of  plotting  Aristocrats,  lazy  hired  spade- 
men, and  almost  of  Destiny  itself  (for  there  has  been  much 
rain  too),  the  Champ-de-Mars,  on  the  13th  of  the  month,  is 
fairly  ready :  trimmed,  rammed,  buttressed  with  firm  masonry  ; 
and  Patriotism  can  stroll  over  it  admiring;  and  as  it  were  re- 
hearsing, for  in  every  head  is  some  unutterable  image  of  the 
morrow.  Pray  Heaven  there  be  not  clouds.  Nay  what  far 
worse  cloud  is  this,  of  a  misguided  Municipality  that  talks  of 
admitting  Patriotism  to  the  solemnity  by  tickets !  Was  it  by 
tickets  we  were  admitted  to  the  work ;  and  to  what  brought  the 
work?  Did  we  take  the  Bastille  by  tickets?  A  misguided 
Municipality  sees  the  error ;  at  late  midnight,  rolling  drums 
announce  to  Patriotism  starting  half  out  of  its  bed-clothes,  that 
it  is  to  be  ticketless.  Pull  down  thy  nightcap  therefore ;  and. 
with  demi-articulate  grumble,  significant  of  several  things,  go 
pacified  to  sleep  again.  To-morrow  is  Wednesday  morning ; 
unforgettable  among  the  fasti  of  the  world. 

e  Narrative  by  a  Lorraine  Federate  (given  in  Hist.  Pari.  vi.  389-91). 


July  i4tli]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  303 

The  morning  comes,  cold  for  a  July  one ;  but  such  a  festivity 
would  make  Greenland  smile.  Through  every  inlet  of  that  Na- 
tional Amphitheatre  (for  it  is  a  league  in  circuit,  cut  with  open- 
ings at  due  intervals),  floods-in  the  living  throng;  covers,  with- 
out tumult,  space  after  space.  The  Ecole  Militaire  has  galleries 
and  overvaulting  canopies,  wherein  Carpentry  and  Painting 
have  vied,  for  the  Upper  Authorities ;  triumphal  arches,  at  the 
Gate  by  the  River,  bear  inscriptions,  if  weak,  yet  well-meant  and 
orthodox.  Far  aloft,  over  the  Altar  of  the  Fatherland,  on  their 
tall  crane  standards  of  iron,  swing  pensile  our  antique  Casso- 
lettes or  Pans  of  Incense ;  dispensing  sweet  incense-fumes, — 
unless  for  the  Heathen  Mythology,  one  sees  not  for  whom. 
Two  hundred  thousand  Patriotic  Men ;  and,  twice  as  good,  one 
hundred  thousand  Patriotic  Women,  all  decked  and  glorified 
as  one  can  fancy,  sit  waiting  in  this  Champ-de-Mars. 

What  a  picture:  that  circle  of  bright-dyed  Life,  spread  up 
there,  on  its  thirty-seated  Slope ;  leaning,  one  would  say,  on  the 
thick  umbrage  of  those  Avenue-Trees,  for  the  stems  of  them 
are  hidden  by  the  height;  and  all  beyond  it  mere  greenness  of 
Summer  Earth,  with  the  gleams  of  waters,  or  white  sparklings 
of  stone  edifices :  little  circular  enamel  picture  in  the  centre  of 
such  a  vase — of  emerald !  A  vase  not  empty :  the  Invalides 
Cupolas  want  not  their  population,  nor  the  distant  Windmills  of 
Montmartre ;  on  remotest  steeple  and  invisible  village  belfry 
stand  men  with  spy-glasses.  On  the  heights  of  Chaillot  are 
many-colored  undulating  groups  ;  round  and  far  on,  over  all  the 
circling  heights  that  embosom  Paris,  it  is  as  one  more  or  less 
peopled  Amphitheatre ;  which  the  eye  grows  dim  with  measur- 
ing. Nay  heights,  as  was  before  hinted,  have  cannon ;  and  a 
floating-battery  of  cannon  is  on  the  Seine.  When  eye  fails,  ear 
shall  serve ;  and  all  France  properly  is  but  one  Amphitheatre ; 
for  in  paved  town  and  unpaved  hamlet  men  walk  listening ;  till 
the  muffled  thunder  sound  audible  on  their  horizon,  that  they 
too  may  begin  swearing  and  firing  !a  But  now,  to  streams  of 
music,  come  Federates  enough, — for  they  have  asseml)Ied  on  the 
Boulevard  Saint-Antoinc  or  thereby,  and  come  marching 
through  the  City,  with  their  Eighty-three  Department  Banners, 
and  blessings  not  loud  but  deep ;  comes  National  Assembly,  and 
takes  seat  under  its  Canopy ;  comes  Royalty,  and  takes  seat  on  a 
throne  beside  it.     And  Lafayette,  on  white  charger,  is  here,  and 

a  Deux  Amis,  v.  168. 


304  CARLYLE  [1790 

all  the  civic  Functionaries ;  and  the  Federates  form  dances,  till 
their  strictly  military  evolutions  and  manoeuvres  can  begin. 

Evolutions  and  manoeuvres?  Task  not  the  pen  of  mortal  to 
describe  them :  truant  imagination  droops ; — declares  that  it  is 
not  worth  while.  There  is  wheeling  and  sweeping,  to  slow,  to 
quick  and  double-quick  time :  Sieur  Motier,  or  Generalissimo 
Lafayette,  for  they  are  one  and  the  same,  and  he  is  General  of 
France,  in  the  King's  stead,  for  four-and-twenty  hours ;  Sieur 
Motier  must  step  forth,  with  that  sublime  chivalrous  gait  of  his ; 
solemnly  ascend  the  steps  of  the  Fatherland's  Altar,  in  sight  of 
Heaven  and  of  the  scarcely  breathing  Earth ;  and,  under  the 
creak  of  those  swinging  Cassolettes,  "  pressing  his  sword's  point 
firmly  there,"  pronounce  the  Oath,  To  King,  to  Law,  and  Na- 
tion (not  to  mention  "grains"  with  their  circulating),  in  his 
own  name  and  that  of  armed  France.  Whereat  there  is  waving 
of  banners,  and  acclaim  sufficient.  The  National  Assembly  must 
swear,  standing  in  its  place ;  the  King  himself  audibly.  The 
King  swears ;  and  now  be  the  welkin  split  with  vivats :  let  citi- 
zens enfranchised  embrace,  each  smiting  heartily  his  palm  into 
his  fellow's ;  and  armed  Federates  clang  their  arms ;  above  all, 
that  floating  battery  speak !  It  has  spoken, — to  the  four  corners 
of  France.  From  eminence  to  eminence  bursts  the  thunder ; 
faint-heard,  loud-repeated.  What  a  stone,  cast  into  what  a  lake  ; 
in  circles  that  do  not  grow  fainter.  From  Arras  to  Avignon ; 
from  Metz  to  Bayonne !  Over  Orleans  and  Blois  it  rolls,  in 
cannon-recitative  ;  Puy  bellows  of  it  amid  his  granite  mountains ; 
Pau  where  is  the  shell-cradle  of  Great  Henri.  At  far  Marseilles, 
one  can  think,  the  ruddy  evening  witnesses  it ;  over  the  deep-blue 
Mediterranean  waters,  the  Castle  of  If  ruddy-tinted  darts  forth, 
from  every  cannon's  mouth,  its  tongue  of  fire  ;  and  all  the  people 
shout :  Yes,  France  is  free.  O  glorious  France,  that  has  burst 
out  so ;  into  universal  sound  and  smoke ;  and  attained — the 
Phrygian  Cap  of  Liberty !  In  all  Towns,  Trees  of  Liberty  also 
may  be  planted ;  with  or  without  advantage.  Said  we  not,  it 
was  the  highest  stretch  attained  by  the  Thespian  Art  on  this 
Planet,  or  perhaps  attainable? 

The  Thespian  Art,  unfortunately,  one  must  still  call  it ;  for 
behold  there,  on  this  Field  of  Mars,  the  National  Banners,  be- 
fore there  could  be  any  swearing,  were  to  be  all  blessed.  A  most 
proper  operation ;  since  surely  without  Heaven's  blessing  be- 
stowed, say  even,  audibly  or  inaudibly  sought,  no  Earthly  ban- 


July  14th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  305 

ner  or  contrivance  can  prove  victorious :  but  now  the  means  of 
doing  it?  By  what  thrice-divine  Frankhn  thunder-rod  shall 
miraculous  fire  be  drawn  out  of  Heaven;  and  descend  gently, 
lifegiving,  with  health  to  the  souls  of  men?  Alas,  by  the  sim- 
plest :  by  Two  Hundred  shaven-crowned  Individuals,  ''  in  snow- 
white  albs,  with  tricolor  girdles,"  arranged  on  the  steps  of 
Fatherland's  Altar;  and,  at  their  head  for  spokesman,  Soul's- 
Overseer  Talleyrand-Perigord !  These  shall  act  as  miraculous 
thunder-rod, — to  such  length  as  they  can.  O  ye  deep  azure 
Heavens,  and  thou  green  all-nursing  Earth ;  ye  Streams  ever- 
flowing;  deciduous  Forests  that  die  and  are  born  again,  con- 
tinually, like  the  sons  of  men ;  stone  Mountains  that  die  daily 
with  every  rain-shower,  yet  are  not  dead  and  levelled  for  ages 
of  ages,  nor  born  again  (it  seems)  but  with  new  world-explo- 
sions, and  such  tumultuous  seething  and  tumbling,  steam  half- 
way to  the  Moon  ;  O  thou  unfathomable  mystic  All,  garment  and 
dwelling-place  of  the  Unnamed  ;  and  thou,  articulate-speaking 
Spirit  of  Man,  who  mouldest  and  modellest  that  Unfathomable 
Unnameable  even  as  we  see, — is  not  there  a  miracle :  That  some 
French  mortal  should,  we  say  not  have  believed,  but  pretended 
to  imagine  he  believed  that  Talleyrand  and  Two  Hundred  pieces 
of  white  Calico  could  do  it ! 

Here,  however,  we  are  to  remark  with  the  sorrowing  His- 
torians of  that  day,  that  suddenly,  while  Episcopus  Talleyrand, 
long-stoled,  with  mitre  and  tricolor  belt,  was  yet  but  hitching 
up  the  Altar-steps  to  do  his  miracle,  the  material  Heaven  grew 
black  ;  a  north-wind,  moaning  cold  moisture,  began  to  sing ;  and 
there  descended  a  very  deluge  of  rain.  Sad  to  see  !  The  thirty- 
staired  Seats,  all  round  our  Amphitheatre,  get  instantaneously 
slated  with  mere  umbrellas,  fallacious  when  so  thick  set :  our 
antique  Cassolettes  become  water-pots ;  their  incense-smoke 
gone  hissing,  in  a  whifif  of  muddy  vapor.  Alas,  instead  of  vivats, 
there  is  nothing  now  but  the  furious  peppering  and  rattling. 
From  three  to  four  hundred  thousand  human  individuals  feel 
that  they  have  a  skin ;  happily  nnpervious.  The  General's  sash 
runs  water :  how  all  military  banners  droop ;  and  will  not  wave, 
but  lazily  flap,  as  if  metamorphosed  into  painted  tin-banners ! 
Worse,  far  worse,  these  hundred  thousand,  such  is  the  His- 
torian's testimony,  of  the  fairest  of  France!  Their  snowy 
muslins  all  splashed  and  draggled  ;  the  ostrich-feather  shrunk 
shamefully  to  the  backbone  of  a  feather:  all  caps  are  ruined; 
Vol.  I. — 20 


o 


06  CARLYLE  [1790 


innermost  pasteboard  molten  into  its  original  pap:  Beauty  no 
longer  swims  decorated  in  her  garniture,  like  Love-goddess 
hidden-revealed  in  her  Paphian  clouds,  but  struggles  in  dis- 
astrous imprisonment  in  it,  for  "  the  shape  was  noticeable ;  "  and 
now  only  sympathetic  interjections,  titterings,  teheeings,  and 
resolute  good-humor  will  avail.  A  deluge;  an  incessant  sheet 
or  fluid-column  of  rain ; — such  that  our  Overseer's  very  mitre 
must  be  filled ;  not  a  mitre,  but  a  filled  and  leaky  fire-bucket  on 
his  reverend  head ! — Regardless  of  which,  Overseer  Talleyrand 
performs  his  miracle :  the  Blessing  of  Talleyrand,  another  than 
that  of  Jacob,  is  on  all  the  Eighty-three  departmental  flags  of 
France ;  which  wave  or  flap,  with  such  thankfulness  as  needs. 
Towards  three  o'clock,  the  sun  beams  out  again :  the  remaining 
evolutions  can  be  transacted  under  bright  heavens,  though  with 
decorations  much  damaged. « 

On  Wednesday  our  Federation  is  consummated :  but  the 
festivities  last  out  the  week,  and  over  into  the  next.  Festivities 
such  as  no  Bagdad  Caliph,  or  Aladdin  with  the  Lamp,  could 
have  equalled.  There  is  a  Jousting  on  the  River ;  with  its  water- 
somersets,  splashing  and  haha-ing:  Abbe  Fauchet,  Te  Deum 
Fauchet,  preaches,  for  his  part,  in  the  "  rotunda  of  the  Corn- 
Market,"  a  funeral  harangue  on  Franklin ;  for  whom  the  Na- 
tional Assembly  has  lately  gone  three  days  in  black.  The  Motier 
and  Lepelletier  tables  still  groan  with  viands ;  roofs  ringing 
with  patriotic  toasts.  On  the  fifth  evening,  w^hich  is  the 
Christian  Sabbath,  there  is  a  universal  Ball.  Paris,  out  of  doors 
and  in,  man,  woman  and  child,  is  jigging  it,  to  the  sound  of 
harp  and  four-stringed  fiddle.  The  hoariest-headed  man  will 
tread  one  other  measure,  under  this  nether  Moon;  speechless 
nurslings,  infants  as  we  call  them,  vrjina  reKva,  crow  in  arms; 
and  sprawl  out  numb-plump  little  limbs, — impatient  for  muscu- 
larity, they  know  not  why.  The  stiffest  balk  bends  more  or  less  ; 
all  joists  creak. 

Or  out,  on  the  Earth's  breast  itself,  behold  the  Ruins  of  the 
Bastille.  All  lamplit,  allegorically  decorated ;  a  Tree  of  Liberty 
sixty  feet  high  ;  and  Phrygian  Cap  on  it,  of  size  enormous,  under 
which  King  Arthur  and  his  round-table  might  have  dined !  In 
the  depths  of  the  background  is  a  single  lugubrious  lamp,  ren- 
dering dim-visible  one  of  your  iron  cages,  half-buried,  and  some 
Prison  stones, — Tyranny  vanishing  downwards,  all  gone  but  the 

a  Deux  Amis,  v.  143-179. 


July  i4th-i8th]         THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  307 

skirt :  the  rest  wholly  lamp-festoons,  trees  real  or  of  pasteboard ; 
in  the  similitude  of  a  fairy  grove ;  with  this  inscription,  readable 
to  runner :  "  Ici  I' on  danse,  Dancing  Here."  As  indeed  had 
been  obscurely  foreshadowed  by  Cagliostro^  prophetic  Quack  of 
Quacks,  when  he,  four  years  ago,  quitted  the  grim  durance ; — to 
fall  into  a  glimmer,  of  the  Roman  Inquisition,  and  not  quit  it. 

But,  after  all,  what  is  this  Bastille  business  to  that  of  the 
Champs  Ely  sees!  Thither,  to  these  Fields  well  named  Elysian, 
all  feet  tend.  It  is  radiant  as  day  with  festooned  lamps ;  little 
oil-cups,  like  variegated  fire-flies,  daintily  illumine  the  highest 
leaves :  trees  there  are  all  sheeted  with  variegated  fire,  shedding 
far  a  glimmer  into  the  dubious  wood.  There,  under  the  free 
sky,  do  tight-limbed  Federates,  with  fairest  newfound  sweet- 
hearts, elastic  as  Diana,  and  not  of  that  coyness  and  tart  humor 
of  Diana,  thread  their  jocund  mazes,  all  through  the  ambrosial 
night ;  and  hearts  were  touched  and  fired ;  and  seldom  surely 
had  our  old  Planet,  in  that  huge  conic  Shadow  of  hers,  "  which 
goes  beyond  the  Moon,  and  is  named  Night,"  curtained  such  a 
Ball-room.  Or  if,  according  to  Seneca,  the  very  gods  look 
down  on  a  good  man  struggling  with  adversity,  and  smile ; 
what  must  they  think  of  Five-and-twenty  million  indifferent 
ones  victorious  over  it, — for  eight  days  and  more  ? 

In  this  way,  and  in  such  ways,  however,  has  the  Feast 
of  Pikes  danced  itself  off:  gallant  Federates  wending  home- 
wards, towards  every  point  of  the  compass,  with  feverish 
nerves,  heart  and  head  much  heated ;  some  of  them,  indeed, 
as  Dampmartin's  elderly  respectable  friend  from  Strasburg, 
quite  "  burnt  out  with  liquors,"  and  flickering  towards  extinc- 
tion.^  The  Feast  of  Pikes  has  danced  itself  off,  and  become 
defunct,  and  the  ghost  of  a  Feast ; — nothing  of  it  now  remain- 
ing but  this  vision  in  men's  memory ;  and  the  place  that  knew 
it  (for  the  slope  of  that  Champ-de-Mars  is  crumbled  to  half 
the  original  heighten )  now  knowing  it  no  more.  Undoubtedly 
one  of  the  mcmorablest  National  Ilightides.  Never  or  hardly 
ever,  as  we  said,  was  Oath  sworn  with  such  heart-effusion, 
emphasis  and  expenditure  of  joyance ;  and  then  it  was  broken 
irremediably  within  year  and  day.  Ah,  why?  When  the  swear- 
ing of  it  was  so  heavenly-joyful,  bosom  clasped  to  bosom,  and 

b  See  his  Let  Ire  an  Pcnple  Franqais  (London,  1786). 
c  Dampmartin,  Ilvcucmcns,  i.  144-184. 
d  Dulaure,  Histoirc  de  Paris,  viii.  25. 


3o8  CARLYLE  [1790 

Five-and-twenty  million  hearts  all  burning  together ;  O  ye  in- 
exorable Destinies,  why? — Partly  because  it  was  sworn  with 
such  overjoyance;  but  chiefly,  indeed,  for  an  older  reason: 
that  Sin  had  come  into  the  world,  and  Misery  by  Sin !  These 
Five-and-twenty  millions,  if  we  will  consider  it,  have  now 
henceforth,  with  that  Phrygian  Cap  of  theirs,  no  force  over 
them,  to  bind  and  guide ;  neither  in  them,  more  than  hereto- 
fore, is  guiding  force,  or  rule  of  just  living:  how  then,  while 
they  all  go  rushing  at  such  a  pace,  on  unknown  ways,  with 
no  bridle,  towards  no  aim,  can  hurlyburly  unutterable  fail? 
For  verily  not  Federation-rosepink  is  the  color  of  this  Earth 
and  her  work :  not  by  outbursts  of  noble-sentiment,  but  with 
far  other  ammunition,  shall  a  man  front  the  world. 

But  how  wise,  in  all  cases,  to  "  husband  your  fire ;"  to  keep 
it  deep  down,  rather,  as  genial  radical-heat !  Explosions,  the 
forciblest,  and  never  so  well  directed,  are  questionable ;  far 
oftenest  futile,  always  frightfully  wasteful :  but  think  of  a 
man,  of  a  Nation  of  men,  spending  its  whole  stock  of  fire  in 
one  artificial  Firework!  So  have  we  seen  fond  weddings  (for 
individuals,  like  Nations,  have  their  Hightides)  celebrated 
with  an  outburst  of  triumph  and  deray,  at  which  the  elderly 
shook  their  heads.  Better  had  a  serious  cheerfulness  been ; 
for  the  enterprise  was  great.  Fond  pair !  the  more  triumphant 
ye  feel,  and  victorious  over  terrestrial  evil,  which  seems  all 
abolished,  the  wider-eyed  will  your  disappointment  be  to  find 
terrestrial  evil  still  extant.  "  And  why  extant  ?  "  will  each  of 
you  cry :  "  Because  my  false  mate  has  played  the  traitor :  evil 
was  abolished  ;  I,  for  one,  meant  faithfully,  and  did,  or  would 
have  done !  "  Whereby  the  over-sweet  moon  of  honey  changes 
itself  into  long  years  of  vinegar :  perhaps  divulsive  vinegar, 
like  Hannibal's. 

Shall  we  say,  then,  the  French  Nation  has  led  Royalty,  or 
wooed  and  teased  poor  Royalty  to  lead  her,  to  the  hymeneal 
Fatherland's  Altar,  in  such  over-sweet  manner ;  and  has,  most 
thoughtlessly,  to  celebrate  the  nuptials  with  due  shine  and 
demonstration, — burnt  her  bed? 


BOOK  SECOND. 

NANCI. 

Chapter  I. — Bouille. 

DIMLY  visible,  at  Metz  on  the  North-Eastern  frontier, 
a  certain  brave  Bouille,  last  refuge  of  Royalty  in  all 
straits  and  meditations  of  flight,  has  for  many  months 
hovered  occasionally  in  our  eye;  some  name  or  shadow  of  a 
brave  Bouille :  let  us  now,  for  a  little,  look  fixedly  at  him, 
till  he  become  a  substance  and  person  for  us.  The  man  him- 
self is  worth  a  glance ;  his  position  and  procedure  there,  in 
these  days,  will  throw  light  on  many  things. 

For  it  is  with  Bouille  as  with  all  French  Commanding 
Officers ;  only  in  a  more  emphatic  degree.  The  grand  Na- 
tional Federation,  we  already  guess,  was  but  empty  sound,  or 
worse :  a  last  loudest  universal  Hep-hep-hiirrah,  with  full 
bumpers,  in  that  National  Lapithse-feast  of  Constitution- 
making  ;  as  in  loud  denial  of  the  palpably  existing ;  as  if,  with 
hurrahings,  you  would  shut  out  notice  of  the  inevitable,  already 
knocking  at  the  gates !  Which  new  National  bumper,  one 
may  say,  can  but  deepen  the  drunkenness ;  and  so,  the  louder 
it  swears  Brotherhood,  will  the  sooner  and  the  more  surely 
lead  to  Cannibalism.  Ah,  under  that  fraternal  shine  and 
clangor,  what  a  deep  world  of  irreconcilable  discords  lie  mo- 
mentarily assuaged,  damped-down  for  one  moment !  Respect- 
able military  Federates  have  barely  got  home  to  their  quarters ; 
and  the  inflammablest,  "  dying,  burnt  up  with  liquors  and  kind- 
ness," has  not  yet  got  extinct ;  the  shine  is  hardly  out  of  men's 
eyes,  and  still  blazes  filling  all  men's  memories, — when  your 
discords  burst  forth  again,  very  considerably  darker  than  ever. 
Let  us  look  at  Bouille,  and  see  how. 

Bouille  for  the  present  commands  in  the  Garrison  of  Metz, 
and  far  and  wide  over  the  Fast  and  North  ;  being  indeed,  by 
a  late  act  of  Government  with  sanction  of  National  Assembly, 

309 


3IO  CARLYLE  [1790 

appointed  one  of  our  Four  supreme  Generals.  Rochambeau 
and  Mailly,  men  and  Marshals  of  note  in  these  days,  though 
to  us  of  small  moment,  are  two  of  his  colleagues ;  tough  old 
babbling  Liickner,  also  of  small  moment  for  us,  will  probably 
be  the  third.  Marquis  de  Bouiile  is  a  determined  Loyalist ; 
not  indeed  disinclined  to  moderate  reform,  but  resolute  against 
immoderate.  A  man  long  suspect  to  Patriotism ;  who  has 
more  than  once  given  the  august  Assembly  trouble ;  who 
would  not,  for  example,  take  the  National  Oath,  as  he  was 
bound  to  do,  but  always  put  it  off  on  this  or  the  other  pre- 
text, till  an  autograph  of  Majesty  requested  him  to  do  it  as 
a  favor.  There,  in  this  post,  if  not  of  honor  yet  of  eminence 
and  danger,  he  waits,  in  a  silent  concentrated  manner;  very 
dubious  of  the  future.  "  Alone,"  as  he  says,  or  almost  alone, 
of  all  the  old  military  Notabilities,  he  has  not  emigrated ;  but 
thinks  always,  in  atrabiliar  moments,  that  there  will  be  noth- 
ing for  him  too  but  to  cross  the  marches.  He  might  cross, 
say,  to  Treves  or  Coblentz,  where  Exiled  Princes  will  be  one 
day  ranking ;  or  say,  over  into  Luxemburg,  where  old  Broglie 
loiters  and  languishes.  Or  is  there  not  the  great  dim  Deep 
of  European  Diplomacy ;  where  your  Calonnes,  your  Breteuils 
are  beginning  to  hover,  dimly  discernible? 

With  immeasurable  confused  outlooks  and  purposes,  with 
no  clear  purpose  but  this  of  still  trying  to  do  his  Majesty  a 
service,  Bouiile  waits ;  struggling  what  he  can  to  keep  his 
district  loyal,  his  troops  faithful,  his  garrisons  furnished.  He 
maintains,  as  yet,  with  his  Cousin  Lafayette  some  thin  diplo- 
matic correspondence,  by  letter  and  messenger ;  chivalrous 
constitutional  professions  on  the  one  side,  military  gravity 
and  brevity  on  the  other;  which  thin  correspondence  one  can 
see  growing  ever  the  thinner  and  hollower,  towards  the  verge 
of  entire  vacuity.o  A  quick,  choleric,  sharply  discerning,  stub- 
bornly endeavoring  man  ;  with  supprcssed-explosive  resolution, 
with  valor,  nay  headlong  audacity :  a  man  who  was  more 
in  his  place,  lionlike  defending  those  Windward  Isles,  or,  as 
with  military  tiger-spring,  clutching  Nevis  and  Montserrat 
from  the  English, — than  here  in  this  suppressed  condition, 
muzzled  and  fettered  by  diplomatic  packthreads ;  looking  out 
for  a  civil  war,  which  may  never  arrive.  Few  years  ago 
Bouiile  was  to  have  led  a  French  East-Indian  Expedition,  and 
o  Bouiile,  Memoires  (London,  1797),  i.  c.  8. 


I790]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  311 

reconquered  or  conquered  Pondicherry  and  the  Kingdoms  of 
the  Sun :  but  the  whole  world  is  suddenly  changed,  and  he 
with  it ;    Destiny  willed   it  not  in  that  way,  but  in  this. 


Chapter  II. — Arrears  and  Aristocrats. 

Indeed,  as  to  the  general  outlook  of  things,  Bouille  him- 
self augurs  not  well  of  it.  The  French  Army,  ever  since  those 
old  Bastille  days,  and  earlier,  has  been  universally  in  the  ques- 
tionablest  state,  and  growing  daily  worse.  Discipline,  which 
is  at  all  times  a  kind  of  miracle,  and  works  by  faith,  broke 
down  then ;  one  sees  not  with  what  near  prospect  of  recov- 
ering itself.  The  Gardes  Francjaises  played  a  deadly  game ; 
but  how  they  won  it,  and  wear  the  prizes  of  it,  all  men  know. 
In  that  general  overturn,  we  saw  the  hired  Fighters  refuse 
to  fight.  The  very  Swiss  of  Chateau- Vieux,  which  indeed  is 
a  kind  of  French  Swiss,  from  Geneva  and  the  Pays  de  Vaud, 
are  understood  to  have  declined.  Deserters  glided  over ;  Royal- 
Allemand  itself  looked  disconsolate,  though  stanch  of  purpose. 
In  a  word,  we  there  saw  Military  Rule,  in  the  shape  of  poor 
Besenval  with  that  convulsive  unmanageable  Camp  of  his> 
pass  two  martyr-days  on  the  Champ-de-Mars ;  and  then,  veil- 
ing itself,  so  to  speak,  "  under  cloud  of  night,"  depart  "  down 
the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,"  to  seek  refuge  elsewhere ;  this 
ground  having  clearly  become  too  hot  for  it. 

But  what  new  ground  to  seek,  what  remedy  to  try  Quar- 
ters that  were  "uninfected:"  this  doubtless,  with  judicious 
strictness  of  drilling,  were  the  plan.  Alas,  in  all  quarters  and 
places,  from  Paris  onward  to  the  remotest  hamlet,  is  infec- 
tion, is  seditious  contagion  :  inhaled,  propagated  by  contact 
and  converse,  till  the  dullest  soldier  catch  it !  There  is  speech 
of  men  in  uniform  with  men  not  in  uniform;  men  in  uniform 
read  journals,  and  even  write  in  them.o  There  are  public  peti- 
tions or  remonstrances,  private  emissaries  and  associations ; 
there  is  discontent,  jealousy,  uncertainty,  sullen  suspicious 
humor.  The  whole  French  Army  fermenting  in  dark  heat, 
glooms  ominous,  boding  good  to  no  one. 

So  that,  in  the  general  social  dissolution  and  revolt,  we  are 
to  have  this  deepest  and  dismalest  kind  of  it,  a  revolting  sol- 

a  See  Newspapers  of  July  1789  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ii.  35),  &c. 


312 


CARLYLE  1 1 790 


diery?  Barren,  desolate  to  look  upon  is  this  same  business  of 
revolt  under  all  its  aspects ;  but  how  infinitely  more  so,  when 
it  takes  the  aspect  of  military  mutiny!  The  very  implement 
of  rule  and  restraint,  whereby  all  the  rest  was  managed  and 
held  in  order,  has  become  precisely  the  frightfulest  immeas- 
urable implement  of  misrule;  like  the  element  of  Fire,  our 
indispensable  all-ministering  servant,  when  it  gets  the  mastery, 
and  becomes  conflagration.  Discipline  we  called  a  kind  of 
miracle:  in  fact,  is  it  not  miraculous  how  one  man  moves 
hundreds  of  thousands;  each  unit  of  whom,  it  may  be,  loves 
him  not,  and  singly  fears  him  not,  yet  has  to  obey  him,  to  go 
hither  or  go  thither,  to  march  and  halt,  to  give  death,  and 
even  to  receive  it,  as  if  a  Fate  had  spoken ;  and  the  word- 
of-command  becomes,  almost  in  the  literal  sense,  a  magic- 
word? 

Which  magic-word,  again,  if  it  be  once  forgotten;  the  spell 
of  it  once  broken !  The  legions  of  assiduous  ministering  spirits 
rise  on  you  now  as  menacing  fiends ;  your  free  orderly  arena 
becomes  a  tumult-place  of  the  Nether  Pit,  and  the  hapless 
magician  is  rent  limb  from  limb.  Military  mobs  are  mobs 
with  muskets  in  their  hands;  and  also  with  death  hanging 
over  their  heads,  for  death  is  the  penalty  of  disobedience,  and 
they  have  disobeyed.  And  now  if  all  mobs  are  properly  frenzies, 
and  work  frenetically  with  mad  fits  of  hot  and  of  cold,  fierce 
rage  alternating  so  incoherently  with  panic  terror,  consider 
what  your  military  mob  will  be,  with  such  a  conflict  of  duties 
and  penalties,  whirled  between  remorse  and  fury,  and,  for  the 
hot  fit,  loaded  fire-arms  in  its  hand!  To  the  soldier  himself, 
revolt  is  frightful,  and  oftenest  perhaps  pitiable;  and  yet  so 
dangerous,  it  can  only  be  hated,  cannot  be  pitied.  An  anoma- 
lous class  of  mortals  these  poor  Hired  Killers !  With  a  frank- 
ness, which  to  the  Moralist  in  these  times  seems  surprising, 
they  have  sworn  to  become  machines ;  and  nevertheless  they 
are  still  partly  men.  Let  no  prudent  person  in  authority  re- 
mind them  of  this  latter  fact;  but  always  let  force,  let  injustice 
above  all,  stop  short  clearly  on  this  side  of  the  rebounding- 
point!  Soldiers,  as  we  often  say,  do  revolt:  were  it  not  so, 
several  things  which  are  transient  in  this  world  might  be 
perennial. 

Over  and  above  the  general  quarrel  which  all  sons  of 
Adam  maintain  with  their  lot  here  below,  the  grievances  of 


I790]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  313 

the  French  soldiery  reduce  themselves  to  two.  First,  that 
their  Officers  arc  Aristocrats ;  secondly,  that  they  cheat  them 
of  their  Pay.  Two  grievances ;  or  rather  we  might  say  one, 
capable  of  becoming  a  hundred ;  for  in  that  single  first  propo- 
sition, that  the  Of^cers  are  Aristocrats,  what  a  multitude  of 
corollaries  lie  ready !  It  is  a  bottomless  ever-flowing  fountain 
of  grievances  this ;  what  you  may  call  a  general  raw-material 
of  grievance,  wherefrom  individual  grievance  after  grievance 
will  daily  body  itself  forth.  Nay  there  will  even  be  a  kind  of 
comfort  in  getting  it,  from  time  to  time,  so  embodied.  Pecula- 
tion of  one's  Pay !  It  is  embodied ;  made  tangible,  made 
denounceable ;   exhalable,  if  only  in  angry  words. 

For  unluckily  that  grand  fountain  of  grievances  does  exist: 
Aristocrats  almost  all  our  Officers  necessarily  are ;  they  have 
it  in  the  blood  and  bone.  By  the  law  of  the  case,  no  man 
can  pretend  to  be  the  pitifulest  lieutenant  of  militia  till  he 
have  first  verified,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Lion-King,  a 
Nobility  of  four  generations.  Not  nobility  only,  but  four  gen- 
erations of  it :  this  latter  is  the  improvement  hit  upon,  in  com- 
paratively late  years,  by  a  certain  War-minister  much  pressed 
for  commissions. ^  An  improvement  which  did  relieve  the  op- 
pressed War-minister,  but  which  split  France  still  further  into 
yawning  contrasts  of  Commonalty  and  Nobility,  nay  of  new 
Nobility  and  old ;  as  if  already  with  your  new  and  old,  and 
then  with  your  old,  older  and  oldest,  there  were  not  con- 
trasts and  discrepancies  enough ; — the  general  clash  whereof 
men  now  see  and  hear,  and  in  the  singular  whirlpool,  all  con- 
trasts gone  together  to  the  bottom !  Gone  to  the  bottom  or 
going ;  with  uproar,  without  return  ;  going  everywhere  save  in 
the  Military  section  of  things ;  and  there,  it  may  be  asked, 
can  they  hope  to  continue  always  at  the  top  ?    Apparently,  not. 

It  is  true,  in  a  time  of  external  Peace,  when  there  is  no 
fighting,  but  only  drilling,  this  question.  How  you  rise  from 
the  ranks,  may  seem  theoretical  rather.  But  in  reference  to 
the  Rights  of  Man  it  is  continually  practical.  The  soldier  has 
sworn  to  be  faithful  not  to  the  King  only,  but  to  the  Law  and 
the  Nation.  Do  our  commanders  love  the  Revolution?  ask 
all  soldiers.  Unhappily  no,  they  hate  it,  and  love  the  Counter- 
Revolution.  Young  epauletted  men,  with  quality-blood  in  them, 
poisoned  with  quality-pride,  do  snifif  openly,  with  indignation 
b  Dampmartin,  Evencmcns,  \.  80. 


314  CARLYLE  [1790 

struggling;  tc  become  contempt,  at  our  Rights  of  Man,  as  at 
some  newfangled  cobweb,  which  shall  be  brushed  down  again. 
Old  Officers,  more  cautious,  keep  silent,  with  closed  uncurled 
lips ;  but  one  guesses  what  is  passing  within.  Nay  who 
knows,  how,  under  the  plausiblest  word  of  command,  might 
lie  Counter-Revolution  itself,  sale  to  Exiled  Princes  and  the 
Austrian  Kaiser :  treacherous  Aristocrats  hoodwinking  the 
small  insight  of  us  common  men? — In  such  manner  works 
that  general  raw-material  of  grievance;  disastrous;  instead 
of  trust  and  reverence,  breeding  hate,  endless  suspicion,  the 
impossibility  of  commanding  and  obeying.  And  now  when 
this  second  more  tanglible  grievance  has  articulated  itself  uni- 
versally in  the  mind  of  the  common  man:  Peculation  of  his 
Pay !  Peculation  of  the  despicablest  sort  does  exist,  and  has 
long  existed ;  but,  unless  the  new-declared  Rights  of  Man, 
and  all  rights  whatsoever,  be  a  cobweb,  it  shall  no  longer 
exist. 

The  French  Military  System  seems  dying  a  sorrowful 
suicidal  death.  Nay  more,  citizen,  as  is  natural,  ranks  himself 
against  citizen  in  this  cause.  The  soldier  finds  audience,  of 
numbers  and  sympathy  unlimited,  among  the  Patriot  lower- 
classes.  Nor  are  the  higher  wanting  to  the  officer.  The  officer 
still  dresses  and  perfumes  himself  for  such  sad  unemigrated 
soiree  as  there  may  still  be ;  and  speaks  his  woes, — which 
woes,  are  they  not  Majesty's  and  Nature's?  Speaks,  at  the 
same  time,  his  gay  defiance,  his  firm-set  resolution.  Citizens, 
still  more  Citizenesses,  see  the  right  and  the  wrong;  not  the 
Military  System  alone  will  die  by  suicide,  but  much  along  with 
it.  As  was  said,  there  is  yet  possible  a  deeper  overturn  than 
any  yet  witnessed :  that  deepest  upturn  of  the  black-burning 
sulphurous  stratum  whereon  all  rests  and  grows ! 

But  how  these  things  may  act  on  the  rude  soldier-mind, 
with  its  military  pedantries,  its  inexperience  of  all  that  lies  ofif 
the  parade-ground ;  inexperience  as  of  a  child,  yet  fierceness 
of  a  man,  and  vehemence  of  a  Frenchman !  It  is  long  that 
secret  communings  in  mess-room  and  guard-room,  sour  looks, 
thousandfold  petty  vexations  between  commander  and  com- 
manded, measure  everywhere  the  weary  military  day.  Ask 
Captain  Dampmartin ;  an  authentic,  ingenious  literary  officer 
of  horse ;  who  loves  the  Reign  of  Liberty,  after  a  sort :  yet 
has  had  his  heart  grieved  to  the  quick  many  times,  in  the  hot 


I790]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  315 

South-Western  region  and  elsewhere ;  and  has  seen  riot,  civil 
battle  by  daylight  and  by  torchlight,  and  anarchy  hatefuler 
than  death.  How  insubordinate  Troopers,  with  drink  in  their 
heads,  meet  Captain  Dampmartin  and  another  on  the  ram- 
parts, where  there  is  no  escape  or  side-path  ;  and  make  mili- 
tary salute  punctually,  for  we  look  calm  on  them ;  yet  make 
it  in  a  snappish,  almost  insulting  manner:  how  one  morning 
they  "  leave  all  their  chamois-shirts  "  and  superfluous  buffs, 
which  they  are  tired  of,  laid  in  piles  at  the  Captains'  doors ; 
whereat  "  we  laugh,"  as  the  ass  does  eating  thistles :  nay  how 
they  "  knot  two  forage-cords  together,"  with  universal  noisy 
cursing,  with  evident  intent  to  hang  the  Quartermaster : — all 
this  the  worthy  Captain,  looking  on  it  through  the  ruddy-and- 
sable  of  fond  regretful  memory,  has  flowingly  written  down.c 
Men  growl  in  vague  discontent ;  officers  fling  up  their  com- 
missions and  emigrate  in  disgust. 

Or  let  us  ask  another  literary  Officer ;  not  yet  Captain  ;  Sub- 
lieutenant only,  in  the  Artillery  Regiment  La  Fere :  a  young 
man  of  twenty-one ;  not  unentitled  to  speak ;  the  name  of  him 
is  Napoleon  Buonaparte.  To  such  height  of  Sublieutenancy 
has  he  now  got  promoted,  from  Brienne  School,  five  years  ago; 
"  being  found  qualified  in  mathematics  by  La  Place."  He  is 
lying  at  Auxonne,  in  the  West,  in  these  months ;  not  sump- 
tuously lodged — "  in  the  house  of  a  Barber,  to  whose  wife  he 
did  not  pay  the  customary  degree  of  respect ;"  or  even  over 
at  the  Pavilion,  in  a  chamber  with  bare  walls ;  the  only  fur- 
niture an  indifferent  "  bed  without  curtains,  two  chairs,  and 
in  the  recess  of  a  window  a  table  covered  with  books  and 
papers:  his  Brother  Louis  sleeps  on  a  coarse  mattress  in  an 
adjoining  room."  However,  he  is  doing  something  great  :-n 
writing  his  first  Book  or  Pamphlet, — eloquent  vehement  Letter 
to  M.  Matteo  Buftafuoeo,  our  Corsican  Deputy,  who  is  not  a 
Patriot,  but  an  Aristocrat  unworthy  of  Dcputyship.  Joly  of  . 
Dole  is  Publisher.  The  literary  Sublieutenant  corrects  the^ 
proofs ;  "  sets  out  on  foot  from  Auxonne  every  morning  at 
four  o'clock,  for  Dole :  after  looking  over  the  proofs,  he  par- 
takes of  an  extremely  frugal  breakfast  with  Joly,  and  immedi- 
ately prepares  for  returning  to  his  Garrison ;  where  he  arrives 
before  noon,  having  thus  walked  above  twenty  miles  in  the 
course  of  the  morning." 

c  Dampmartin,  Ev6nemens,  i.  122-146. 


3i6  CARLYLE  [1790 

This  Sublieutenant  can  remark  that,  in  drawing-rooms,  on 
streets,  on  highways,  at  inns,  everywhere  men's  minds  are 
ready  to  kindle  into  a  flame.  That  a  Patriot,  if  he  appear  in 
the  drawing-room,  or  amid  a  group  of  officers,  is  liable  enough 
to  be  discouraged,  so  great  is  the  majority  against  him :  but 
no  sooner  does  he  get  into  the  street,  or  among  the  soldiers, 
than  he  feels  again  as  if  the  whole  Nation  were  with  him. 
That  after  the  famous  Oath,  To  the  King,  to  the  Nation,  and 
Law,  there  was  a  great  change ;  that  before  this,  if  ordered 
to  fire  on  the  people,  he  for  one  would  have  done  it  in  the 
King's  name ;  but  that  after  this,  in  the  Nation's  name,  he 
would  not  have  done  it.  Likewise  that  the  Patriot  officers, 
more  numerous  too  in  the  Artillery  and  Engineers  than  else- 
where, were  few  in  number ;  yet  that  having  the  soldiers  on 
their  side,  they  ruled  the  regiment ;  and  did  often  deliver  the 
Aristocrat  brother  officer  out  of  peril  and  strait.  One  day, 
for  example,  "  a  member  of  our  own  mess  roused  the  mob, 
by  singing  from  the  windows  of  our  dining-room,  O  Richard, 
O  my  King;  and  I  had  to  snatch  him  from  their  fury."  d 

All  which  let  the  reader  multiply  by  ten  thousand ;  and 
spread  it,  with  slight  variations,  over  all  the  camps  and  gar- 
risons of  France.  The  French  Army  seems  on  the  verge  of 
universal  mutiny. 

Universal  mutiny !  There  is  in  that  what  may  well  make 
Patriot  Constitutionalism  and  an  august  Assembly  shudder. 
Something  behooves  to  be  done ;  yet  what  to  do  no  man  can 
tell.  Mirabeau  proposes  even  that  the  Soldiery,  having  come 
to  such  a  pass,  be  forthwith  disbanded,  the  whole  Two  Hun- 
dred and  Eighty  Thousand  of  them ;  and  organized  anew.^ 
Impossible  this,  in  so  sudden  a  manner !  cry  all  men.  And 
yet  literally,  answer  we,  it  is  inevitable,  in  one  manner  or 
another.  Such  an  army,  with  its  four-generation  Nobles,  its 
peculated  Pay,  and  men  knotting  forage-cords  to  hang  their 
Quartermaster,  cannot  subsist  beside  such  a  Revolution.  Your 
alternative  is  a  slow-pining  chronic  dissolution  and  new  or- 
ganization ;  or  a  swift  decisive  one ;  the  agonies  spread  over 
years,  or  concentrated  into  an  hour.  With  a  Mirabeau  for 
Minister  or  Governor,  the  latter  had  been  the  choice ;  with 
no  Mirabeau  for  Governor,  it  will  naturally  be  the  former. 

rf  Norvins,  Histoirc  dc  Napoleon,  i.  47;  Las  Cases,  Mcmoires  (trans- 
lated into  ITazlitt's  Life  of  Napoleon,  i.  23-31). 
e  Moniteur,  1790,  No.  233. 


August]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  317 


Chapter  III. — Bouilld  at  Metz. 

To  Bouille,  in  his  North-Eastern  circle,  none  of  these 
things  are  altogether  hid.  Many  times  flight  over  the  marches 
gleams-out  on  him  as  the  last  guidance  in  such  bewilderment ; 
nevertheless  he  continues  here ;  struggling  always  to  hope  the 
best,  not  from  new  organization,  but  from  happy  Counter- 
Revolution  and  return  to  the  old.  For  the  rest,  it  is  clear 
to  him  that  this  same  National  Federation,  and  universal 
swearing  and  fraternizing  of  People  and  Soldiers,  has  done 
"  incalculable  mischief."  So  much  that  fermented  secretly  has 
hereby  got  vent,  and  become  open :  National  Guards  and  Sol- 
diers of  the  line,  solemnly  embracing  one  another  on  all  parade- 
fields,  drinking,  swearing  patriotic  oaths,  fall  into  disorderly 
street-processions,  constitutional  unmilitary  exclamations  and 
hurrahings.  On  which  account  the  Regiment  Picardie,  for 
one,  has  to  be  drawn  out  in  the  square  of  the  barracks,  here 
at  Metz,  and  sharply  harangued  by  the  General  himself;  but 
expresses  penitence./^ 

Far  and  near,  as  accounts  testify,  insubordination  has  begun 
grumbling  louder  and  louder.  Officers  have  been  seen  shut 
up  in  their  mess-rooms ;  assaulted  with  clamorous  demands, 
not  without  menaces.  The  insubordinate  ringleader  is  dis- 
missed with  "  yellow  furlough,"  yellow  infamous  thing  they 
call  cartouche  jatine:  but  ten  new  ringleaders  rise  in  his  stead, 
and  the  yellow  cartouche  ceases  to  be  thought  disgraceful. 
"  Within  a  fortnight,"  or  at  furthest  a  month,  of  that  sublime 
Feast  of  Pikes,  the  whole  French  Army,  demanding  Arrears, 
forming  Reading  Clubs,  frequenting  Popular  Societies,  is  in 
a  state  which  Bouille  can  call  by  no  name  but  that  of  mutiny. 
Bouille  knows  it  as  few  do;  and  speaks  by  dire  experience. 
Take  one  instance  instead  of  many. 

It  is  still  an  early  day  of  August,  the  precise  date  now 
undiscoverable,  when  Bouille,  about  to  set  out  for  the  waters 
of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  is  once  more  suddenly  summoned  to  the 
barracks  of  Metz.  The  soldiers  stand  ranged  in  fighting 
order,  muskets  loaded,  the  officers  all  there  on  compulsion ; 
and  required  with  many-voiced  emphasis  to  have  their  arrears 
paid.     Picardie  was  penitent ;   but  we  see  it  has  relapsed :    the 

/Bouille,  Memoircs,  i.  113. 


31 8  CARLYLE  [179° 

wide  space  bristles  and  lours  with  mere  mutinous  armed  men. 
Brave  Bouille  advances  to  the  nearest  Regiment,  opens  his 
commanding  lips  to  harangue ;  obtains  nothing  but  querulous- 
indignant  discordance,  and  the  sound  of  so  many  thousand 
livres  legally  due.  The  moment  is  trying;  there  are  some 
ten  thousand  soldiers  now  in  Metz,  and  one  spirit  seems  to 
have   spread  among  them. 

Bouille  is  firm  as  the  adamant;  but  what  shall  he  do?  A 
German  Regiment,  named  of  Salm,  is  thought  to  be  of  better 
temper :  nevertheless  Salm  too  may  have  heard  of  the  precept. 
Thou  shalt  not  steal;  Salm  too  may  know  that  money  is 
money.  Bouille  walks  trustfully  towards  the  Regiment  de 
Salm,  speaks  trustful  words;  but  here  again  is  answered  by 
the  cry  of  forty-four  thousand  livres  odd  sous.  A  cry  waxing 
more  and  more  vociferous,  as  Salm's  humor  mounts;  which 
cry,  as  it  will  produce  no  cash  or  promise  of  cash,  ends  in 
the  wide  simultaneous  whirr  of  shouldered  muskets,  and  a 
determined  quick-time  march  on  the  part  of  Salm — towards 
its  Colonel's  house,  in  the  next  street,  there  to  seize  the  colors 
and  military  chest.  Thus  does  Salm,  for  its  part;  strong  in 
the  faith  that  meum  is  not  tmtvt,  that  fair  speeches  are  not 
forty-four  thousand  livres  odd  sous. 

Unrestrainable !  Salm  tramps  to  military  time,  quick  con- 
suming the  way.  Bouille  and  the  officers,  drawing  sword,  have 
to  dash  into  double-quick  pas-de-charge,  or  unmilitary  running ; 
to  eet  the  start;  to  station  themselves  on  the  outer  staircase, 
and  stand  there  with  what  of  death-defiance  and  sharp  steel 
they  have ;  Salm  truculently  coiling  itself  up,  rank  after  rank, 
opposite  them,  in  such  humor  as  we  can  fancy,  which  hap- 
pily has  not  yet  mounted  to  the  murder-pitch.  There  will 
Bouille  stand,  certain  at  least  of  one  man's  purpose :  in  grim 
calmness,  awaiting  the  issue.  What  the  intrepidest  of  men  and 
generals  can  do  is  done.  Bouille,  though  there  is  a  barricad- 
ing picket  at  each  end  of  the  street,  and  death  under  his  eyes, 
contrives  to  send  for  a  Dragoon  Regiment  with  orders  to 
charge:  the  dragoon  officers  mount,  the  dragoon  men  will 
not :  hope  is  none  there  for  him.  The  street,  as  we  say,  bar- 
ricaded ;  the  Earth  all  shut  out,  only  the  indififcrcnt  heavenly 
Vault  overhead:  perhaps  here  or  there  a  timorous  house- 
holder peering  out  of  window,  with  prayer  for  Bouille  ;  copious 
Rascality,  on  the  pavement,  with  prayer  for  Salm:    there  do 


August]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  319 

the  two  parties  stand ; — like  chariots  locked  in  a  narrow  thor- 
oughfare; like  locked  w^restlers  at  a  dead-grip!  For  two 
hours  they  stand :  Bouille's  sword  glittering  in  his  hand, 
adamantine  resolution  clouding  his  brows :  for  two  hours  by 
the  clocks  of  Metz.  Moody-silent  stands  Salm,  with  occasional 
clangor;  but  does  not  fire.  Rascality,  from  time  to  time, 
urges  some  grenadier  to  level  his  musket  at  the  General ;  who 
looks  on  it  as  a  bronze  General  would :  and  always  some 
corporal  or  other  strikes  it  up. 

In  such  remarkable  attitude,  standing  on  that  staircase  for 
two  hours,  does  brave  Bouille,  long  a  shadow,  dawn  on  us 
visibly  out  of  the  dimness,  and  become  a  person.  For  the 
rest,  since  Salm  has  not  shot  him  at  the  first  instant,  and  since 
in  himself  there  is  no  variableness,  the  danger  will  diminish. 
The  Mayor,  "  a  man  infinitely  respectable,"  with  his  Munici- 
pals and  tricolor  sashes,  finally  gains  entrance ;  remonstrates, 
perorates,  promises ;  gets  Salm  persuaded  home  to  its  bar- 
racks. Next  day,  our  respectable  Mayor  lending  the  money, 
the  officers  pay-down  the  half  of  the  demand  in  ready  cash. 
With  which  liquidation  Salm  pacifies  itself ;  and  for  the  present 
all  is  hushed  up,  as  much  as  may  h&.g 

Such  scenes  as  this  of  Metz,  or  preparations  and  demon- 
strations towards  such,  are  universal  over  France :  Damp- 
martin,  with  his  knotted  forage-cords  and  piled  chamois- 
jackets,  is  at  Strasburg,  in  the  South-East ;  in  these  same 
days  or  rather  nights.  Royal  Champagne  is  "  shouting  Vive 
la  Nation,  an  diable  les  Aristocrates,  with  some  thirty  lit 
candles,"  at  Hesdin,  on  the  far  North-West.  "  The  garrison 
of  Bitche,"  Deputy  Rewbell  is  sorry  to  state,  "  went  out  of 
the  town  with  drums  beating ;  deposed  its  officers ;  and  then 
returned  into  the  town,  sabre  in  hand."/f  Ought  not  a  Na- 
tional Assembly  to  occupy  itself  with  these  objects?  Military 
France  is  everywhere  full  of  sour  inflammatory  humor,  which 
exhales  itself  fuliginously,  this  way  or  that :  a  whole  con- 
tinent of  smoking  flax ;  which,  blown  on  here  or  there  by  any 
angry  wind,  might  so  easily  start  into  a  blaze,  into  a  con- 
tinent of  fire. 

Constitutional  Patriotism  is  in  (\qq\)  natural  alarm  at  these 
things.  The  august  Assembly  sits  diligently  deliberating;  dare 
nowise  resolve,  with  Mirabcau,  on  an  instantaneous  dishand- 
g  Bouille,  i.  140-5.  liMoniteur  (in  Hist.  Pari.  vii.  29). 


C.2  0  CARLYLE  [1790 

ment  and  extinction;  finds  that  a  course  of  palliatives  is 
easier.  But  at  least  and  lowest,  this  grievance  of  the  Arrears 
shall  be  rectified.  A  plan,  much  noised  of  in  those  days,  under 
the  name  "  Decree  of  the  Sixth  of  August,"  has  been  devised 
for  that.  Inspectors  shall  visit  all  armies;  and,  with  certain 
elected  corporals  and  "  soldiers  able  to  write,"  verify  what 
arrears  and  peculations  do  lie  due,  and  make  them  good.  Well 
if  in  this  way  the  smoky  heat  be  cooled  down ;  if  it  be  not, 
as  we  say,  ventilated  overmuch,  or,  by  sparks  and  collision 
somewhere,  sent  up! 


Chapter  IV.— Arrears  at  Nanci. 

We  are  to  remark,  however,  that  of  all  districts,  this  of 
Bouille's  seems  the  inflammablest.  It  was  always  to  Bouille 
and  Metz  that  Royalty  would  fly:  Austria  lies  near;  here 
more  than  elsewhere  must  the  disunited  People  look  over  the 
borders,  into  a  dim  sea  of  Foreign  Politics  and  Diplomacies, 
with  hope  or  apprehension,  with  mutual  exasperation. 

It  was  but  in  these  days  that  certain  Austrian  troops, 
marching  peaceably  across  an  angle  of  this  region,  seemed 
an  Invasion  realized;  and  there  rushed  towards  Stenai,  with 
musket  on  shoulder,  from  all  the  winds,  some  thirty  thousand 
National  Guards,  to  inquire  what  the  matter  was.i  A  matter 
of  mere  diplomacy  it  proved ;  the  Austrian  Kaiser,  in  haste 
to  get  to  Belgium,  had  bargained  for  this  short  cut.  The  in- 
finite dim  movement  of  European  politics  waved  a  skirt  over 
these  spaces,  passing  on  its  way ;  like  the  passing  shadow  of 
a  condor;  and  such  a  winged  flight  of  thirty  thousand,  with 
mixed  cackling  and  crowing,  rose  in  consequence !  For,  in 
addition  to  all,  this  people,  as  we  said,  is  much  divided :  Aris- 
tocrats abound ;  Patriotism  has  both  Aristocrats  and  Aus- 
trians  to  watch.  It  is  Lorraine,  this  region  ;  not  so  illuminated 
as  old  France :  it  remembers  ancient  Feudalisms ;  nay  within 
man's  memory  it  had  a  Court  and  King  of  its  own,  or  indeed 
the  splendor  of  a  Court  and  King,  without  the  burden.  Then, 
contrariwise,  the  Mother  Society,  which  sits  in  the  Jacobins 
Church  at  Paris,  has  Daughters  in  the  Towns  here;  shrill- 
tongued,  driven  acrid :  consider  how  the  memory  of  good 
King  Stanislaus,  and  ages  of  Imperial  Feudalism,  may  com- 
iMoniteur,  Seance  du  9  Aout  1790. 


August]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  321 

port  with  this  New  acrid  Evangel,  and  what  a  virulence  of 
discord  there  may  be !  In  all  which,  the  Soldiery,  officers  on 
one  side,  private  men  on  the  other,  takes  part,  and  now  indeed 
principal  part;  a  Soldiery,  moreover,  all  the  hotter  here  as 
it  lies  the  denser,  the  frontier  Province  requiring  more  of  it. 

So  stands  Lorraine:  but  the  capital  City  more  especially 
so.  The  pleasant  City  of  Nanci,  which  faded  Feudalism  loves, 
where  King  Stanislaus  personally  dwelt  and  shone,  has  an 
Aristocrat  Alunicipality,  and  then  also  a  Daughter  Society: 
it  has  some  forty  thousand  divided  souls  of  population ;  and 
three  large  Regiments,  one  of  which  is  Swiss  Chateau-Vieux, 
dear  to  Patriotism  ever  since  it  refused  fighting,  or  was 
thought  to  refuse,  in  the  Bastille  days.  Here  unhappily  all 
evil  influences  seem  to  meet  concentred ;  here,  of  all  places, 
may  jealousy  and  heat  evolve  itself.  These  many  months,  ac- 
cordingly, man  has  been  set  against  man.  Washed  against 
Unwashed ;  Patriot  Soldier  against  Aristocrat  Captain,  ever 
the  more  bitterly :  and  a  long  score  of  grudges  has  been 
running  up. 

Nameable  grudges,  and  likewise  unnameable:  for  there  is 
a  punctual  nature  in  Wrath ;  and  daily,  were  there  but  glances 
of  the  eye,  tones  of  the  voice,  and  minutest  commissions  or 
omissions,  it  will  jot-down  somewhat,  to  account,  under  the 
head  of  sundries,  which  always  swells  the  sum-total.  For  ex- 
ample, in  April  last,  in  those  times  of  preliminary  Federation, 
when  National  Guards  and  Soldiers  were  everywhere  swearing 
brotherhood,  and  all  France  was  locally  federating,  preparing 
for  the  grand  National  Feast  of  Pikes,  it  was  observed  that 
these  Nanci  officers  threw  cold  water  on  the  whole  brotherly 
business ;  that  they  first  hung  back  from  appearing  at  the 
Nanci  Federation ;  then  did  appear,  but  in  mere  rcdingote 
and  undress,  with  scarcely  a  clean  shirt  on ;  nay  that  one 
of  them,  as  the  National  Colors  flaunted  by  in  that  solemn 
moment,  did,  without  visible  necessity,  take  occasion  to  spit. J 

Small  "sundries  as  per  journal,"  but  then  incessant  ones ! 
The  Aristocrat  Municipality,  pretending  to  be  Constitutional, 
keeps  mostly  quiet ;  not  so  the  Daughter  Society,  the  five 
thousand  adult  male  Patriots  of  the  place,  still  less  the  nve 
thousand  female:  not  so  the  young,  whiskered  or  whisker- 
less,  four-generation  Noblesse  in  epaulettes ;   the  grim  Patriot 

j  DcMx  Amis,  v.  217. 
Vol.  I. — 21 


32  2  CARLYLE  [1790 

Swiss  of  Chateau-Vieux,  effervescent  infantry  of  Regiment 
du  Roi,  hot  troopers  of  Mestre-de-Camp !  Walled  Nanci, 
which  stands  so  bright  and  trim,  with  its  strajght  streets, 
spacious  squares,  and  Stanislaus'  Architecture,  on  the  fruitful 
alluvium  of  the  Meurthe ;  so  bright,  amid  the  yellow  corn- 
fields in  these  Reaper-Months, — is  inwardly  but  a  den  of  dis- 
cord, anxiety,  inflammability,  not  far  from  exploding.  Let 
Bouille  look  to  it.  If  that  universal  military  heat,  which  we 
liken  to  a  vast  continent  of  smoking  flax,  do  anywhere  take 
fire,  his  beard,  here  in  Lorraine  and  Nanci,  may  the  most 
readily  of  all  get  singed  by  it. 

Bouille,  for  his  part,  is  busy  enough,  but  only  with  the 
general  superintendence ;  getting  his  pacified  Salm,  and  all 
other  still  tolerable  Regiments,  marched  out  of  Metz,  to  south- 
ward towns  and  villages ;  to  rural  cantonments  as  at  Vic, 
Marsal  and  thereabout,  by  the  still  waters ;  where  is  plenty  of 
horse-forage,  sequestered  parade-ground,  and  the  soldier's 
speculative  faculty  can  be  stilled  by  drilling.  Salm,  as  we 
said,  received  only  half-payment  of  arrears ;  naturally  not 
without  grumbling.  Nevertheless  that  scene  of  the  drawn 
sword  may,  after  all,  have  raised  Bouille  in  the  mind  of  Salm ; 
for  men  and  soldiers  love  intrepidity  and  swift  inflexible 
decision,  even  when  they  suffer  by  it.  As  indeed  is  not  this 
fundamentally  the  quality  of  qualities  for  a  man?  A  quality 
which  by  itself  is  next  to  nothing,  since  inferior  animals,  asses, 
dogs,  even  mules  have  it ;  yet,  in  due  combination,  it  is  the 
indispensable  basis  of  all. 

Of  Nanci  and  its  heats,  Bouille,  commander  of  the  whole, 
knows  nothing  special :  understands  generally  that  the  troops 
in  that  City  are  perhaps  the  worst.k  The  Officers  there  have 
it  all,  as  they  have  long  had  it,  to  themselves ;  and  unhappily 
seem  to  manage  it  ill.  "  Fifty  yellow  furloughs,"  given  out  in 
one  batch,  do  surely  betoken  difficulties.  But  what  was 
Patriotism  to  think  of  certain  light-fencing  Fusileers  "  set 
on,"  or  supposed  to  be  set  on,  "  to  insult  the  Grenadier-club," 
— considerate  speculative  Grenadiers  and  that  reading-room 
of  theirs?  With  shoutings,  with  hootings ;  till  the  specula- 
tive Grenadier  drew  his  side-arms  too ;  and  there  ensued 
battery  and  duels!  Nay  more,  are  not  swashbucklers  of  the 
same  stamp  "  sent  out "  visibly,  or  sent  out  presumably,  now 

k  Bouill6,  i.  c.  9. 


Auuust]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  323 

in  the  dress  of  Soldiers  to  pick  quarrels  with  the  Citizens; 
now,  disguised  as  Citizens,  to  pick  quarrels  with  the  Soldiers? 
For  a  certain  Roussiere,  expert  in  fence,  was  taken  in  the 
very  fact;  four  Officers  (presumably  of  tender  years)  hound- 
ing him  on,  who  thereupon  fled  precipitately !  Fence-master 
Roussiere,  haled  to  the  guardhouse,  had  sentence  of  three 
months'  imprisonment :  but  his  comrades  demanded  "  yellow 
furlough  for  him  of  all  persons ;  nay  thereafter  they  produced 
him  on  parade  ;  capped  him  in  paper-helmet,  inscribed  Iscariot; 
marched  him  to  the  gate  of  the  City ;  and  there  sternly  com- 
manded him  to  vanish  forevermore. 

On  all  which  suspicions,  accusations  and  noisy  procedure, 
and  on  enough  of  the  like  continually  accumulating,  the 
Officer  could  not  but  look  with  disdainful  indignation;  per- 
haps disdainfully  express  the  same  in  words,  and  "  soon  after 
fly  over  to  the  Austrians." 

So  that  when  it  here,  as  elsewhere,  comes  to  the  question 
of  Arrears,  the  humor  and  procedure  is  of  the  bitterest :  Regi- 
ment Mestre-de-Camp  getting,  amid  loud  clamor,  some  three 
gold  louis  a-man, — which  have,  as  usual,  to  be  borrowed  from 
the  Municipality ;  Swiss  Chateau-Vieuv  applying  for  the  like, 
but  getting  instead  instantaneous  courrois,  or  cat-o'-nine-tails, 
with  subsequent  unsufiferable  hisses  from  the  women  and  chil- 
dren: Regiment  du  Roi,  sick  of  hope  deferred,  at  length  seiz- 
ing its  military  chest,  and  marching  it  to  quarters,  but  next  day 
marching  it  back  again,  through  streets  all  struck  silent : — 
unordered  paradings  and  clamors,  not  without  strong  liquor ; 
objurgation,  insubordination  ;  your  military  ranked  Arrange- 
ment going  all  (as  the  Typographers  say  of  set  types,  in  a 
similar  case)  rapidly  to  pie  .'I  Such  is  Nanci  in  these  early 
days  of  August ;  the  sublime  Feast  of  Pikes  not  yet  a  month  old. 

Constitutional  Patriotism,  at  Paris  and  elsewhere,  may  well 
quake  at  the  news.  War-Minister  Latour  du  Pin  runs  breath- 
less to  the  National  Assembly,  with  a  written  message  that 
"  all  is  burning,  tout  bride,  tout  presse."  The  National  As- 
sembly, on  the  spur  of  the  instant,  renders  such  Decrct,  and 
"order  to  submit  and  repent,"  as  he  requires;  if  it  will  avail 
anything.  On  the  other  hand,  Journalism,  through  all  its 
throats,  gives  hoarse  outcry,  condemnatory,  elegiac-applausive. 
The  Forty-eight  Sections  lift  up  voices;    sonorous  Brewer,  or 

/  Deux  Amis,  v.  c.  8. 


324  CARLYLE  [1790 

call  him  now  Colonel  Santerre,  is  not  silent,  in  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Antoine.  For,  meanwhile,  the  Nanci  soldiers  have  sent 
a  Deputation  of  Ten,  furnished  with  documents  and  proofs; 
who  will  tell  another  story  than  the  "  all-is-burning "  one. 
Which  deputed  Ten,  before  ever  they  reach  the  Assembly 
Hall,  assiduous  Latour  du  Pin  picks  up,  and,  on  warrant  of 
Mayor  Bailly,  claps  in  prison !  Most  unconstitutionally ;  for 
they  had  officers'  furloughs.  Whereupon  Saint-Antoine,  in 
indignant  uncertainty  of  the  future,  closes  its  shops.  Is  Bouille 
a  traitor,  then,  sold  to  Austria?  In  that  case,  these  poor  pri- 
vate sentinels  have  revolted  mainly  out  of  Patriotism? 

New  Deputation,  Deputation  of  National  Guardsmen  now, 
sets  forth  from  Nanci  to  enlighten  the  Assembly.  It  meets 
the  old  deputed  Ten  returning,  quite  unexpectedly  wnhanged ; 
and  proceeds  thereupon  with  better  prospects ;  but  effects 
nothing.  Deputations,  Government  Messengers,  Orderlies  at 
hand-gallop,  Alarms,  thousand-voiced  Rumors,  go  vibrating 
continually  ;  backwards  and  forwards, — scattering  distraction. 
Not  till  the  last  week  of  August  does  M.  de  Malseigne, 
selected  as  Inspector,  get  down  to  the  scene  of  the  mutiny ; 
with  Authority,  with  cash,  and  "  Decree  of  the  Sixth  of 
August."  He  now  shall  see  these  Arrears  liquidated,  justice 
done,  or  at  least  tumult  quashed. 


Chapter  V. — Inspector  Malseigne. 

Of  Inspector  Malseigne  we  discern,  by  direct  light,  that  he 
is  "  of  Herculean  stature ;"  and  infer,  with  probability,  that  he 
is  of  truculent  mustachioed  aspect, — for  Royalist  Officers  now 
leave  the  upper  lip  unshaven ;  that  he  is  of  indomitable  bull- 
heart  ;    and  also,  unfortunately,  of  thick  bull-head. 

On  Tuesday  the  24th  of  August  1790,  he  opens  session  as 
inspecting  Commissioner ;  meets  those  "  elected  corporals,  and 
soldiers  that  can  write."  He  finds  the  accounts  of  Chateau- 
Vieux  to  be  complex ;  to  require  delay  and  reference :  he 
takes  to  haranguing,  to  reprimanding;  ends  amid  audible 
grumbling.  Next  morning,  he  resumes  session,  not  at  the 
Townhall  as  prudent  Municipals  counselled,  but  once  more  at 
the  barracks.  Unfortunately  Chateau- Vieux,  grumbling  all 
night,  will  now  hear  of  no  delay  or  reference ;    from  repri- 


Aug.  28th-29th]        THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  325 

manding  on  his  part,  it  goes  to  bullying, — answered  with 
continual  cries  of  "  Jugea  tout  de  suite,  Judge  it  at  once;" 
whereupon  M.  de  Malseigne  will  off  in  a  huff".  But  lo,  Cha- 
teau-Vieux,  swarming  all  about  the  barrack-court,  has  sen- 
tries at  every  gate ;  M.  de  Malseigne,  demanding  egress,  can- 
not get  it,  not  though  Commandant  Denoue  backs  him,  can 
get  only  "  Jugcz  tout  de  suite."    Here  is  a  nodus ! 

Bull-hearted  M.  de  Malseigne  draws  his  sword ;  and  will 
force  egress.  Confused  splutter.  M.  de  Malseigne's  sword 
breaks ;  he  snatches  Commandant  Denoue's :  the  sentry  is 
wounded.  M.  de  Malseigne,  whom  one  is  loth  to  kill,  does 
force  egress, — followed  by  Chateau-Vieux  all  in  disarray ;  a 
spectacle  to  Nanci.  M.  de  Malseigne  walks  at  a  sharp  pace, 
yet  never  runs ;  wheeling  from  time  to  time,  with  menaces 
and  movements  of  fence ;  and  so  reaches  Denoue's  house, 
unhurt ;  which  house  Chateau-Vieux,  in  an  agitated  manner, 
invests, — hindered  as  yet  from  entering,  by  a  crowd  of  officers 
formed  on  the  staircase.  M.  de  Malseigne  retreats  by  back 
ways  to  the  Townhall,  flustered  though  undaunted ;  amid  an 
escort  of  National  Guards.  From  the  Towmhall  he,  on  the 
morrow,  emits  fresh  orders,  fresh  plans  of  settlement  with 
Chateau-Vieux ;  to  none  of  which  will  Chateau-Vieux  listen : 
whereupon  he  finally,  amid  noise  enough,  emits  order  that 
Chateau-Vieux  shall  march  on  the  morrow  morning,  and 
quarter  at  Sarre  Louis.  Chateau-Vieux  flatly  refuses  march- 
ing; M.  de  Malseigne  "takes  act,"  due  notarial  protest,  of 
such  refusal, — if  happily  that  may  avail  him. 

This  is  the  end  of  Thursday;  and,  indeed,  of  M.  de  Mal- 
seigne's Inspectorship,  which  has  lasted  some  fifty  hours.  To 
such  length,  in  fifty  hours,  has  he  unfortunately  brought  it. 
Mestre-de-Camp  and  Regiment  du  Roi  hang,  as  it  were,  flut- 
tering ;  Chateau-Vieux  is  clean  gone,  in  what  way  we  see. 
Over-night,  an  Aide-de-Camp  of  Lafayette's,  stationed  here 
for  such  emergency,  sends  swift  emissaries  far  and  wide  to 
summon  National  Guards.  The  slumber  of  the  country  is 
broken  by  clattering  hoofs,  by  loud  fraternal  knockings ; 
everywhere  the  Constitutional  Patriot  must  clutch  his  fighting- 
gear,  and  take  the  road  for  Nanci. 

And  thus  the  Herculean  Inspector  has  sat  all  Thursday, 
among  terror-struck  Municipals,  a  centre  of  confused  noise: 
all  Thursday,   Friday,  and  till  Saturday  towards  noon.    Cha- 


326  CARLYLE  [1790 

teau-Vieux,  in  spite  of  the  notarial  protest,  will  not  march 
a  step.  As  many  as  four  thousand  National  Guards  are  drop- 
ping or  pouring  in;  uncertain  what  is  expected  of  them, 
still  more  uncertain  what  will  be  obtained  of  them.  For  all 
is  uncertainty,  commotion  and  suspicion :  there  goes  a  word 
that  Bouille,  beginning  to  bestir  himself  in  the  rural  Can- 
tonments eastward,  is  but  a  Royalist  traitor ;  that  Chateau- 
Vieux  and  Patriotism  are  sold  to  Austria,  of  which  latter  M. 
de  Malseigne  is  probably  some  agent.  Mestre-de-Camp  and 
Roi  flutter  still  more  questionably:  Chateau- Vieux,  far  from 
marching,  "  waves  red  flags  out  of  two  carriages,"  in  a  passion- 
ate manner,  along  the  streets ;  and  next  morning  answers  its 
Officers :  "  Pay  us,  then ;  and  we  will  march  with  you  to  the 
world's  end !  " 

Under  which  circumstances,  towards  noon  on  Saturday, 
M.  de  Malseigne  thinks  it  were  good  perhaps  to  inspect  the 
ramparts, — on  horseback.  He  mounts,  accordingly,  with  escort 
of  three  troopers.  At  the  gate  of  the  City,  he  bids  two  of  them 
wait  for  his  return  ;  and  with  the  third,  a  trooper  to  be  depended 
upon,  he — gallops  ofif  for  Luneville ;  where  lies  a  certain 
Carbineer  Regiment  not  yet  in  a  mutinous  state !  The  two  left 
troopers  soon  get  uneasy ;  discover  how  it  is,  and  give  the  alarm. 
Mestre-de-Camp,  to  the  number  of  a  hundred,  saddles  in  frantic 
haste,  as  if  sold  to  Austria;  gallops  out  pellmell  in  chase  of  its 
Inspector.  And  so  they  spur,  and  the  Inspector  spurs ;  career- 
ing, with  noise  and  jingle,  up  the  valley  of  the  River  Meurthe, 
towards  Luneville  and  the  midday  sun :  through  an  astonished 
country ;  indeed  almost  to  their  own  astonishment. 

What  a  hunt ;  Actason-like ; — which  Actseon  de  Malseigne 
happily  gains.  To  arms,  ye  Carbineers  of  Luneville:  to  chas- 
tise mutinous  men,  insulting  your  General  Officer,  insulting 
your  own  quarters ; — above  all  things,  fire  soon,  lest  there  be 
parleying  and  ye  refuse  to  fire !  The  Carbineers  fire  soon,  ex- 
ploding upon  the  first  stragglers  of  Mestre-de-Camp  ;  who  shriek 
at  the  very  flash,  and  fall  back  hastily  on  Nanci,  in  a  state  not  far 
from  distraction.  Panic  and  fury :  sold  to  Austria  without  an  if; 
so  much  per  regiment,  the  very  sums  can  be  specified ;  and 
traitorous  Malseigne  is  fled !  Help,  O  Heaven ;  help,  thou 
Earth, — ye  unwashed  Patriots  ;  ye  too  are  sold  like  us  ! 

Efi^ervescent  Regiment  du  Roi  primes  its  firelocks,  Mestre- 
de-Camp  saddles  wholly:  Commandant  Denoue  is  seized,  is 


August  29th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  327 

flung  in  prison  with  a  "  canvas-shirt  {sarreau  de  toile),"  about 
him ;  Chateau-Vieux  bursts-up  the  magazines ;  distributes 
"  three  thousand  fusils  "  to  a  Patriot  people :  Austria  shall  have 
a  hot  bargain.  Alas,  the  unhappy  hunting-dogs,  as  we  said, 
have  hunted  axvay  their  huntsman  ;  and  do  now  run  howling  and 
baying,  on  what  trail  they  know  not ;  nigh  rabid ! 

And  so  there  is  tumultuous  march  of  men,  through  the  night ; 
with  halt  on  the  heights  of  Flinval,  whence  Luneville  can  be  seen 
all  illuminated.  Then  there  is  parley,  at  four  in  the  morning; 
and  reparley ;  finally  there  is  agreement :  the  Carbineers  gave 
in ;  Malseigne  is  surrendered,  with  apologies  on  all  sides. 
After  weary  confused  hours,  he  is  even  got  under  way;  the 
Lunevillers  all  turning  out,  in  the  idle  Sunday,  to  see  such  de- 
parture :  home-going  of  mutinous  Mestre-de-Camp  with  its 
Inspector  captive.  Mestre-de-Camp  accordingly  marches;  the 
Lunevillers  look.  See !  at  the  corner  of  the  first  street,  our  In- 
spector bounds  off  again,  bull-hearted  as  he  is ;  amid  the  slash 
of  sabres,  the  crackle  of  musketry ;  and  escapes,  full  gallop,  with 
only  a  ball  lodged  in  his  hn^-jcrkin.  The  Herculean  man !  And 
yet  it  is  an  escape  to  no  purpose.  For  the  Carbineers,  to  whom 
after  the  hardest  Sunday's  ride  on  record,  he  has  come  circling 
back,  "  stand  deliberating  by  their  nocturnal  watch-fires ;  "  de- 
liberating of  Austria,  of  traitors,  and  the  rage  of  Mestre-de- 
Camp.  So  that,  on  the  whole,  the  next  sight  we  have  is  that  of 
M.  de  Malseigne,  on  the  Monday  afternoon,  faring  bull-hearted 
through  the  streets  of  Nanci ;  in  open  carriage,  a  soldier  stand- 
ing over  him  with  drawn  sword ;  amid  the  "  furies  of  the  wom- 
en," hedges  of  National  Guards,  and  confusion  of  Babel :  to  the 
Prison  beside  Commandant  Denoue  !  That  finally  is  the  lodging 
of  Inspector  Malseigne.o 

Surely  it  is  time  Bouille  were  drawing  near.  The  Country 
all  round,  alarmed  with  watch-fires,  illuminated  towns,  and 
marching  and  rout,  has  been  sleepless  these  several  nights. 
Nanci,  with  its  uncertain  National  Guards,  with  its  distributed 
fusils,  mutinous  soldiers,  black  panic  and  redhot  ire,  is  not  a 
City  but  a  Bedlam. 

a  Deux  Amis,  v.  206-251;  Newspapers  and  Documents  (in  Hist.  Pari. 
vii.  59-162). 


328  CARLYLE  [1790 


Chapter  VI. — Bouille  at  Nanci. 

Haste  with  help,  thou  brave  Bouille :  if  swift  help  come  not, 
all  is  now  verily  "  burning ;  "  and  may  burn, — to  what  lengths 
and  breadths !  Much,  in  these  hours,  depends  on  Bouille ;  as 
it  shall  now  fare  with  him,  the  whole  Future  may  be  this  way 
or  be  that.  If,  for  example,  he  were  to  loiter  dubitating,  and  not 
come ;  if  he  were  to  come,  and  fail :  the  whole  Soldiery  of  France 
to  blaze  into  mutiny,  National  Guards  going  some  this  way, 
some  that ;  and  Royalism  to  draw  its  rapier,  and  Sansculottism 
to  snatch  its  pike ;  and  the  Spirit  of  Jacobinism,  as  yet  young, 
girt  with  sun-rays,  to  grow  instantaneously  mature,  girt  with 
hell-fire, — as  mortals,  in  one  night  of  deadly  crisis,  have  had 
their  heads  turned  gray ! 

Brave  Bouille  is  advancing  fast,  with  the  old  inflexibility ; 
gathering  himself,  unhappily  "  in  small  affluences,"  from  East, 
from  West  and  North ;  and  now  on  Tuesday  morning,  the  last 
day  of  the  month,  he  stands  all  concentred,  unhappily  still  in 
small  force,  at  the  village  of  Frouarde,  within  some  few  miles. 
Son  of  Adam  with  a  more  dubious  task  before  him  is  not  in 
the  world  this  Tuesday  morning.  A  weltering  inflammable  sea 
of  doubt  and  peril,  and  Bouille  sure  of  simply  one  thing,  his 
own  determination.  Which  one  thing,  indeed,  may  be  worth 
many.  He  puts  a  most  firm  face  on  the  matter :  "  Submission, 
or  unsparing  battle  and  destruction  ;  twenty- four  hours  to  make 
your  choice ;  "  this  was  the  tenor  of  his  Proclamation ;  thirty 
copies  of  which  he  sent  yesterday  to  Nanci : — all  which,  we  find, 
were  intercepted  and  not  posted.^ 

Nevertheless,  at  half-past  eleven  this  morning,  seemingly  by 
way  of  answer,  there  does  wait  on  him  at  Frouarde  some  Depu- 
tation from  the  mutinous  Regiments,  from  the  Nanci  Munici- 
pals, to  see  what  can  be  done.  Bouille  receives  this  Deputation 
"  in  a  large  open  court  adjoining  his  lodging:  "  pacified  Salm, 
and  the  rest,  attend  also,  being  invited  to  do  it, — all  happily  still 
in  the  right  humor.  The  Mutineers  pronounce  themselves  with 
a  decisiveness,  which  to  Bouille  seems  insolence ;  and  happily 
to  Salm  also.  Salm,  forgetful  of  the  Mctz  staircase  and  sabre, 
demands  that  the  scoundrels  "  be  hanged  "    there    and    then. 

ft  Compare   Bonille,   Memoires,  1.    153-176;   Deux  Amis,  v.   251-271, 
Hist.  Pari,  ubi  supra. 


August  31st]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  329 

Bouille  represses  the  hanging ;  but  answers  that  mntinous  Sol- 
diers have  one  course,  and  not  more  than  one :  To  Hberate,  with 
heartfelt  contrition,  Messieurs  Denoue  and  De  Malseigne ;  to  get 
ready  forthwith  for  marching  off,  whither  he  shall  order ;  and 
"  submit  and  repent,"  as  the  National  Assembly  has  decreed,  as 
he  yesterday  did  in  thirty  printed  Placards  proclaim.  These  are 
his  terms,  unalterable  as  the  decrees  of  Destiny.  Which  terms 
as  they,  the  Mutineer  deputies,  seemingly  do  not  accept,  it  were 
good  for  them  to  vanish  from  this  spot,  and  even  to  do  it  prompt- 
ly ;  with  him  too,  in  few  instants,  the  word  will  be.  Forward ! 
The  Mutineer  deputies  vanish,  not  unpromptly ;  the  Municipal 
ones,  anxious  beyond  right  for  their  own  individualities,  prefer 
abiding  with  Bouille. 

Brave  Bouille,  though  he  puts  a  most  firm  face  on  the  matter, 
knows  his  position  full  well:  how  at  Nanci,  what  with  re- 
bellious soldiers,  with  uncertain  National  Guards,  and  so  many 
distributed  fusils,  there  rage  and  roar  some  ten  thousand  fight- 
ing men ;  while  with  himself  is  scarcely  the  third  part  of  that 
number,  in  National  Guards  also  uncertain,  in  mere  pacified 
Regiments, — for  the  present  full  of  rage,  and  clamor  to  march  ; 
but  whose  rage  and  clamor  may  next  moment  take  such  a  fatal 
new  figure.  On  the  top  of  one  uncertain  billow,  therewith  to 
calm  billows !  Bouille  must  "  abandon  himself  to  Fortune ;" 
who  is  said  sometimes  to  favor  the  brave.  At  half-past  twelve, 
the  Mutineer  deputies  having  vanished,  our  drums  beat ;  we 
march :  for  Nanci !  Let  Nanci  bethink  itself,  then ;  for  Bouille 
has  thought  and  determined. 

And  yet  how  shall  Nanci  think :  not  a  City  but  a  Bedlam ! 
Grim  Chateau-Vieux  is  for  defence  to  the  death  ;  forces  the  Mu- 
nicipality to  order,  by  tap  of  drum,  all  citizens  acquainted  with 
artillery  to  turn  out,  and  assist  in  managing  the  cannon.  On 
the  other  hand,  effervescent  Regiment  du  Roi  is  drawn  up  in 
its  barracks ;  quite  disconsolate,  hearing  the  humor  Salm  is 
in  ;  and  ejaculates  dolefully  from  its  thousand  throats :  "  La  lot, 
la  lot,  Law,  law !  "  Mestre-de-Camp  blusters,  with  profane 
swearing,  in  mixed  terror  and  furor ;  National  Guards  look  this 
way  and  that,  not  knowing  what  to  do.  What  a  Bedlam-City : 
as  many  plans  as  heads ;  all  ordering,  none  obeying :  quiet  none, 
— except  the  Dead,  who  sleep  underground,  having  done  their 
fighting. 

And,  behold,  Bouille  proves  as  good  as  his  word:  "at  half- 


330  CARLYLE  [1790 

past  two  "  scouts  report  that  he  is  within  half  a  league  of  the 
gates ;  rattling  along,  with  cannon  and  array  ;  breathing  nothing 
but  destruction.  A  new  Deputation,  Municipals,  Mutineers, 
Officers,  goes  out  to  meet  him ;  with  passionate  entreaty  for  yet 
one  other  hour.  Bouille  grants  an  hour.  Then,  at  the  end 
thereof,  no  Denoue  or  Malseigne  appearing  as  promised,  he 
rolls  his  drums,  and  again  takes  the  road.  Towards  four  o'clock, 
the  terror-struck  Townsmen  may  see  him  face  to  face.  His  can- 
nons rattle  there,  in  their  carriages ;  his  vanguard  is  within 
thirty  paces  of  the  Gate  Stanislaus.  Onward  like  a  Planet,  by 
appointed  times,  by  law  of  Nature !  What  next  ?  Lo,  flag  of 
truce  and  chamade,  conjuration  to  halt:  Malseigne  and  Denoue 
are  on  the  street,  coming  hither;  the  soldiers  all  repentant, 
ready  to  submit  and  march !  Adamantine  Bouille's  look  alters 
not ;  yet  the  word  Halt  is  given :  gladder  moment  he  never  saw. 
Joy  of  joys !  Malseigne  and  Denoue  do  verily  issue ;  escorted 
by  National  Guards ;  from  streets  all  frantic,  with  sale  to  Austria 
and  so  forth  ;  they  salute  Bouille,  unscathed.  Bouille  steps  aside 
to  speak  with  them,  and  with  other  heads  of  the  Town  there ; 
having  already  ordered  by  what  Gates  and  Routes  the  mutineer 
Regiments  shall  file  out. 

Such  colloquy  with  these  two  General  Officers  and  other 
principal  Townsmen  was  natural  enough ;  nevertheless  one 
wishes  Bouille  had  postponed  it,  and  not  stepped  aside.  Such 
tumultous  inflammable  masses,  tumbling  along,  making  way  for 
each  other ;  this  of  keen  nitrous  oxide,  that  of  sulphurous  fire- 
damp,— were  it  not  well  to  stand  between  them,  keeping  them 
well  separate,  till  the  space  be  cleared  ?  Numerous  stragglers  of 
Chateau- Vieux  and  the  rest  have  not  marched  with  their  main 
columns,  which  are  filing  out  by  the  appointed  Gates,  taking 
station  in  the  open  meadows.  National  Guards  are  in  a  state  of 
nearly  distracted  uncertainty ;  the  populace,  armed  and  unarmed, 
roll  openly  delirious, — betrayed,  sold  to  the  Austrians,  sold  to 
the  Aristocrats.  There  are  loaded  cannon,  with  lit  matches, 
among  them,  and  Bouille's  vanguard  is  halted  within  thirty 
paces  of  the  Gate.  Command  dwells  not  in  that  mad  inflamma- 
ble mass ;  which  smolders  and  tumbles  there,  in  blind  smoky 
rage ;  which  will  not  open  the  Gate  when  summoned ;  says  it 
will  open  the  cannon's  throat  sooner! — Cannonade  not,  O 
Friends,  or  be  it  through  my  body !  cries  heroic  young  Desilles, 
young  Captain  of  Roi,  clasping  the  murderous  engine  in  his 


August  3ist]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  331 

arms,  and  holding  it.  Chateau- Vieux  Swiss,  by  main  force, 
with  oaths  and  menaces,  wrench  off  the  heroic  youth ;  who  un- 
daunted, amid  still  louder  oaths,  seats  himself  on  the  touch-hole. 
Amid  still  louder  oaths,  with  ever  louder  clangor, — and,  alas, 
with  the  loud  crackle  of  first  one,  and  then  of  three  other 
muskets ;  which  explode  into  his  body ;  which  roll  //  in  the  dust, 
— and  do  also,  in  the  loud  madness  of  such  moment,  bring  lit 
cannon-match  to  ready  priming ;  and  so,  with  one  thunderous 
belch  of  grapeshot,  blast  some  fifty  of  Bouille's  vanguard  into 
air! 

Fatal !  That  sputter  of  the  first  musket-shot  has  kindled  such 
a  cannon-shot,  such  a  death-blaze ;  and  all  is  now  red-hot  mad- 
ness, conflagration  as  of  Tophet.  With  demoniac  rage,  the 
Bouille  vanguard  storms  through  that  Gate  Stanislaus ;  with 
fiery  sweep,  sweeps  Mutiny  clear  away,  to  death,  or  into  shel- 
ters and  cellars ;  from  which  latter,  again.  Mutiny  continues 
firing.  The  ranked  Regiments  hear  it  in  their  meadow ;  they 
rush  back  again  through  the  nearest  Gate;  Bouille  gallops  in, 
distracted,  inaudible ; — and  now  has  begun  in  Nanci,  as  in  that 
doomed  Hall  of  the  Nibelungen,  "  a  murder  grim  and  great." 

Miserable :  such  scene  of  dismal  aimless  madness  as  the  anger 
of  Heaven  but  rarely  permits  among  men !  From  cellar  or  from 
garret,  from  open  street  in  front,  from  successive  corners  of 
cross-streets  on  each  hand,  Chateau-Vieux  and  Patriotism  keep 
up  the  murderous  rolling-fire,  on  murderous  not  Unpatriotic 
fires.  Your  blue  National  Captain,  riddled  with  balls,  one  hard- 
ly knows  on  whose  side  fighting,  requests  to  be  laid  on  the 
colors  to  die:  the  patriotic  Woman  (name  not  given,  deed  sur- 
viving) screams  to  Chateau-Vieux  that  it  must  not  fire  the  other 
cannon ;  and  even  flings  a  pail  of  water  on  it,  since  screaming 
avails  not.a  Thou  shalt  fight ;  thou  shalt  not  fight ;  and  with 
whom  shalt  thou  fight !  Could  tumult  awaken  the  old  Dead, 
Burgundian  Charles  the  Bold  might  stir  from  under  that 
Rotunda  of  his :  never  since  he,  raging,  sank  in  the  ditches,  and 
lost  Life  and  Diamond,  was  such  a  noise  heard  here. 

Three  thousand,  as  some  count,  lie  mangled,  gory:  the  half 
of  Chateau-Vieux  has  been  shot,  without  need  of  Court-Martial. 
Cavalry,  of  Mestre-dc-Camp  or  their  foes,  can  do  little.  Regi- 
ment du  Roi  was  persuaded  to  its  barracks ;  stands  there  pal- 
pitating.    Bouille,  armed  with  the  terrors  of  the  Law,  and  fa- 

a  Deux  Amis,  v.  268. 


332 


CARLYLE  [1790 


vored  of  Fortune,  finally  triumphs.  In  two  murderous  hours  he 
has  penetrated  to  the  grand  Squares,  dauntless,  though  with  loss 
of  forty  officers  and  live  hundred  men :  the  shattered  remnants 
of  Chateau- Vieux  are  seeking  covert.  Regiment  du  Roi,  not 
effervescent  now,  alas,  no,  but  liai'i)ig  effervesced,  will  offer  to 
ground  its  arms ;  will  ''  march  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour."  Nay 
these  poor  effervesced  require  "  escort  "  to  march  with,  and  get 
it ;  though  they  are  thousands  strong,  and  have  thirty  ball-car- 
tridges a  man !  The  Sun  is  not  yet  down,  when  Peace,  which 
might  have  come  bloodless,  has  come  bloody :  the  m.utinous 
Regiments  are  on  march,  doleful,  on  their  three  Routes ;  and 
from  Nanci  rises  wail  of  women  and  men,  the  voice  of  weeping 
and  desolation ;  the  City  weeping  for  its  slain  who  awaken  not. 
These  streets  are  empty  but  for  victorious  patrols. 

Thus  has  Fortune,  favoring  the  brave,  dragged  Bouille,  as 
himself  says,  out  of  such  a  frightful  peril  "  by  the  hair  of  the 
head."  An  intrepid  adamantine  man,  this  Bouille : — had  he 
stood  in  old  Broglie's  place  in  those  Bastille  days,  it  might  have 
been  all  different !  He  has  extinguished  mutiny,  and  immeasur- 
able civil  war.  Not  for  nothing,  as  we  see ;  yet  at  a  rate  which 
he  and  Constitutional  Patriotism  consider  cheap.  Nay,  as  for 
Bouille,  he,  urged  by  subsequent  contradiction  which  arose,  de- 
clares coldly,  it  was  rather  against  his  own  private  mind,  and 
more  by  public  military  rule  of  duty,  that  he  did  extinguish  it,^ 
— immeasurable  civil  war  being  now  the  only  chance.  Urged, 
we  say,  by  subsequent  contradiction !  Civil  war,  indeed,  is 
Chaos ;  and  in  all  vital  Chaos  there  is  new  Order  shaping  itself 
free :  but  what  a  faith  this,  that  of  all  new  Orders  out  of  Chaos 
and  Possibility  of  Man  and  his  Universe,  Louis  Sixteenth  and 
Two-Chamber  Monarchy  were  precisely  the  one  that  would 
shape  itself !  It  is  like  undertaking  to  throw  deuce-ace,  say  only 
five  hundred  successive  times,  and  any  other  throw  to  be  fatal 
— for  Bouille.  Rather  thank  Fortune,  and  Heaven,  always,  thou 
intrepid  Bouille ;  and  let  contradiction  go  its  way !  Civil  war, 
conflagrating  universally  over  France  at  this  moment,  might 
have  led  to  one  thing  or  to  another  thing :  meanwhile,  to  quench 
conflagration,  wheresoever  one  finds  it,  wheresoever  one  can ; 
this,  in  all  times,  is  the  rule  for  man  and  General  Officer. 

But  at  Paris,  so  agitated  and  divided,  fancy  how  it  went, 
when  the  continually  vibrating  Orderlies  vibrated  thither  at 

b  Bouille,  i.  175. 


September]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  333 

hand-gallop,  with  such  questionable  news !  High  is  the  gratula- 
tion ;  and  also  deep  the  indignation.  An  august  Assembly,  by 
overwhelming  majorities,  passionately  thanks  Bouille  ;  a  King's 
autograph,  the  voices  of  all  Loyal,  all  Constitutional  men  run  to 
the  same  tenor.  A  solemn  National  funeral-service,  for  the 
Law-defenders  slain  at  Nanci,  is  said  and  sung  in  the  Champ- 
de-Mars  ;  Bailly,  Lafayette  and  National  Guards,  all  except  the 
few  that  protested,  assist.  With  pomp  and  circumstance,  with 
episcopal  Calicoes  in  tricolor  girdles.  Altar  of  Fatherland  smok- 
ing with  cassolettes,  or  incense-kettles  ;  the  vast  Champ-de-Mars 
wholly  hung  round  with  black  mortcloth, — which  mortcloth  and 
expenditure  Marat  thinks  had  better  have  been  laid  out  in  bread, 
in  these  dear  days,  and  given  to  the  hungry  living  Patriot. c  On 
the  other  hand,  living  Patriotism,  and  Saint-Antoine,  which  we 
have  seen  noisily  closing  its  shops  and  suchlike,  assembles  now 
"  to  the  number  of  forty  thousand ;  "  and,  with  loud  cries,  under 
the  very  windows  of  the  thanking  National  Assembly,  demands 
revenge  for  murdered  Brothers,  judgment  on  Bouille,  and  in- 
stant dismissal  of  War-Minister  Latour  du  Pin. 

At  sound  and  sight  of  which  things,  if  not  War-Minister 
Latour,  yet  "  Adored  Minister  "  Necker  sees  good,  on  the  3d  of 
September  1790,  to  withdraw  softly,  almost  privily, — with  an 
eye  to  the  "  recovery  of  his  health."  Home  to  native  Switzer- 
land ;  not  as  he  last  came ;  lucky  to  reach  it  alive !  Fifteen 
months  ago,  we  saw  him  coming,  with  escort  of  horse,  with 
sound  of  clarion  and  trumpet ;  and  now,  at  Arcis-sur-Aube, 
while  he  departs,  unescorted,  soundless,  the  Populace  and  Mu- 
nicipals stop  him  as  a  fugitive,  are  not  unlike  massacring  him 
as  a  traitor ;  the  National  Assembly,  consulted  on  the  matter, 
gives  him  free  egress  as  a  nullity.  Such  an  unstable  "  drift- 
mould  of  Accident  "  is  the  substance  of  this  lower  world,  for 
them  that  dwell  in  houses  of  clay ;  so,  especially  in  hot  regions 
and  times,  do  the  proudest  palaces  we  build  of  it  take  wings,  and 
become  Sahara  sand-palaces,  spinning  many-pillared  in  the 
whirlwind,  and  bury  us  under  their  sand ! — 

In  spite  of  the  forty  thousand,  the  National  Assembly  persists 
in  its  thanks ;  and  Royalist  Latour  du  Pin  continues  Minister. 
The  forty  thousand  assemble  next  day,  as  loud  as  ever;  roll 
towards  Latour's  Hotel;  find  cannon  on  the  porch-steps  with 

c  Ami  du  Peuple  (in  Hist.  Pari,  ubi  supra). 


334 


CARLYLE  [1790 


flambeau  lit;  and  have  to  retire  elsewhither,  and  digest  their 
spleen,  or  reabsorb  it  into  the  blood. 

Over  in  Lorraine  meanwhile,  they  of  the  distributed  fusils, 
ringleaders  of  Mestre-de-Camp,  of  Roi,  have  got  marked  out  for 
judgment ; — yet  shall  never  get  judged.  Briefer  is  the  doom  of 
Chateau-Vieux.  Chateau-Vieux  is,  by  Swiss  law,  given  up  for 
instant  trial  in  Court-Martial  of  its  own  officers.  Which  Court- 
jMartial,  with  all  brevity  (in  not  many  hours),  has  hanged  some 
Twenty-three,  on  conspicuous  gibbets;  marched  some  Three- 
score in  chains  to  the  Galleys ;  and  so,  to  appearance,  finished 
the  matter  off.  Hanged  men  do  cease  for  ever  from  this  Earth  ; 
but  out  of  chains  and  the  Galleys  there  may  be  resuscitation  in 
triumph.  Resuscitation  for  the  chained  Hero ;  and  even  for  the 
chained  Scoundrel  or  Semi-scoundrel!  Scottish  John  Knox, 
such  World-Hero  as  we  know,  sat  once  nevertheless  pulling 
grim-taciturn  at  the  oar  of  French  Galley,  "  in  the  Water  of 
Lore; "  and  even  flung  their  Virgin-Mary  over,  instead  of  kiss- 
ing her, — as  a  "  pented  bredd,"  or  timber  Virgin,  who  could 
naturally  swim.t^  So,  ye  of  Chateau-Vieux,  tug  patiently,  not 
without  hope ! 

But  indeed  at  Nanci  generally.  Aristocracy  rides  triumphant, 
rough.  Bouille  is  gone  again,  the  second  day;  an  Aristocrat 
Municipality,  with  free  course,  is  as  cruel  as  it  had  before  been 
cowardly.  The  Daughter  Society,  as  the  mother  of  the  whole 
mischief,  lies  ignominiously  suppressed;  the  Prisons  can  hold 
no  more ;  bereaved  down-beaten  Patriotism  murmurs,  not  loud 
but  deep.  Here  and  in  the  neighboring  Towns,  "  flattened 
balls  "  picked  from  the  streets  of  Nanci  are  worn  at  buttonholes : 
balls  flattened  in  carrying  death  to  Patriotism ;  men  wear  them 
there,  in  perpetual  memento  of  revenge.  Mutineer  deserters 
roam  the  woods;  have  to  demand  charity  at  the  musket's  end. 
All  is  dissolution,  mutual  rancor,  gloom  and  despair: — till 
National  Assembly  Commissioners  arrive,  with  a  steady  gentle 
flame  of  Constitutionalism  in  their  hearts ;  who  gently  lift  up 
the  down-trodden,  gently  pull  down  the  too  uplifted ;  reinstate 
the  Daughter  Society,  recall  the  mutineer  deserter ;  gradually 
levelling,  strive  in  all  wise  ways  to  smooth  and  soothe.  With 
such  gradual  mild  levelling  on  the  one  side ;  as  with  solemn 
funeral-service,  cassolettes,  Courts-Martial,  National  thanks,  on 
the  other, — all  that  Officiality  can  do  is  done.  The  buttonhole 
d  Knox's  History  of  the  Reformation,  b.  i. 


September]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  335 

will  drop  its  flat  ball ;  the  black  ashes,  so  far  as  may  be,  get 
green  again. 

This  is  the  "  Affair  of  Nanci ;  "  by  some  called  the  "  Massacre 
of  Nanci ;  " — properly  speaking,  the  unsightly  wrong-side  of 
that  thrice-glorious  Feast  of  Pikes,  the  right-side  of  which 
formed  a  spectacle  for  the  very  gods.  Right-side  and  wrong  lie 
always  so  near  :  the  one  was  in  July,  in  August  the  other !  The- 
atres, the  theatres  over  in  London,  are  bright  with  their  paste- 
board simulacrum  of  that  "  Federation  of  the  French  people," 
brought  out  as  Drama:  this  of  Nanci,  we  may  say,  though  not 
played  in  any  pasteboard  Theatre,  did  for  many  months  enact 
itself,  and  even  walk  spectrally,  in  all  French  heads.  For  the 
news  of  it  fly  pealing  through  all  France :  awakening,  in  town 
and  village,  in  clubroom,  messroom,  to  the  utmost  borders,  some 
mimic  reflex  or  imaginative  repetition  of  the  business ;  always 
with  the  angry  questionable  assertion :  It  was  right ;  It  was 
wrong.  Whereby  come  controversies,  duels  ;  embitterment,  vain 
jargon;  the  hastening  forward,  the  augmenting  and  intensifying 
of  whatever  new  explosions  lie  in  store  for  us. 

Meanwhile,  at  this  cost  or  at  that,  the  mutiny,  as  we  say,  is 
stilled.  The  French  army  has  neither  burst-up  in  universal 
simultaneous  delirium ;  nor  been  at  once  disbanded,  put  an  end 
to,  and  made  new  again.  It  must  die  in  the  chronic  manner, 
through  years,  by  inches ;  with  partial  revolts,  as  of  Brest  Sailors 
or  the  like,  which  dare  not  spread ;  with  men  unhappy,  insub- 
ordinate ;  officers  unhappier,  in  Royalist  mustachioes,  taking 
horse,  singly  or  in  bodies,  across  the  Rhine  :e  sick  dissatisfaction, 
sick  disgust  on  both  sides ;  the  Army  moribund,  fit  for  no  duty : 
— till  it  do,  in  that  unexpected  manner,  phoenix-like,  with  long 
throes,  get  both  dead  and  new-born ;  then  start  forth  strong,  nay 
stronger  and  even  strongest. 

Thus  much  was  the  brave  Bouille  hitherto  fated  to  do. 
Wherewith  let  him  again  fade  into  dimness;  and,  at  Metz  or 
the  rural  Cantonments,  assiduously  drilling,  mysteriously  diplo- 
matizing, in  scheme  within  scheme,  hover  as  formerly  a  faint 
shadow,  the  hope  of  Royalty. 

e  See  Dampmartin,  i.  349,  &c.  &c 


BOOK    THIRD 

THE  TUILERIES. 

Chapter  I. — Epimenides. 

HOW  true,  that  there  is  nothing  dead  in  this  Universe; 
that  what  we  call  dead  is  only  changed,  its  forces  work- 
ing in  inverse  order!  "The  leaf  that  lies  rotting  in 
moist  winds,"  says  one,  "  has  still  force ;  else  how  could  it  rot?" 
Our  whole  Universe  is  but  an  infinite  Complex  of  Forces ; 
thousandfold,  from  Gravitation  up  to  Thought  and  Will ;  man's 
Freedom  environed  with  Necessity  oi"  Nature:  in  all  which 
nothing  at  any  moment  slumbers,  but  all  is  forever  awake  and 
busy.  The  thing  that  lies  isolated  inactive  thou  shalt  nowhere 
discover;  seek  ev<erywhere,  from  the  granite  mountain,  slow- 
mouldering  since  Creation,  to  the  passing  cloud-vapor,  to  the 
living  man  ;  to  the  action,  to  the  spoken  word  of  man.  The  word 
that  is  spoken,  as  we  know,  flies  irrevocable :  not  less,  but  more, 
the  action  that  is  done.  "  The  gods  themselves,"  sings  Pindar, 
"  cannot  annihilate  the  action  that  is  done."  No :  this,  once 
done,  is  done  always ;  cast  forth  into  endless  Time ;  and,  long 
conspicuous  or  soon  hidden,  must  verily  work  and  grow  forever 
there,  an  indestructible  new  element  in  the  Infinite  of  Things. 
Or,  indeed,  what  is  this  Infinite  of  Things  itself,  which  men 
name  Universe,  but  an  Action,  a  sum-total  of  Actions  and 
Activities?  The  living  ready-made  sum-total  of  these  three, — 
which  Calculation  cannot  add,  cannot  bring  on  its  tablets ;  yet 
the  sum,  we  say,  is  written  visible :  All  that  has  been  done.  All 
that  is  doing,  All  that  will  be  done!  Understand  it  well,  the 
Thing  thou  beholdest,  that  Thing  is  an  Action,  the  product  and 
expression  of  exerted  Force :  the  All  of  Things  is  an  infinite 
conjugation  of  the  verb  To  do.  Shoreless  Fountain-Ocean  of 
Force,  of  power  to  do;  wherein  Force  rolls  and  circles,  billowing, 
many-streamed,  harmonious ;  wide  as  Immensity,  deep  as 
Eternity  ;  beautiful  and  terrible,  not  to  be  comprehended :  this  is 

336 


179°]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  337 

what  man  names  Existence  and  Universe ;  this  thousand-tinted 
Flame-image,  at  once  veil  and  revelation,  reflex  such  as  he,  in 
his  poor  brain  and  heart,  can  paint,  of  One  Unnamea1)le,  dwell- 
ing in  inaccessible  light !  From  beyond  the  Star-galaxies,  from 
before  the  Beginning  of  Days,  it  billows  and  rolls, — round  thee, 
nay  thyself  art  of  it,  in  this  point  of  Space  where  thou  now 
standest,  in  this  moment  which  thy  clock  measures. 

Or,  apart  from  all  Transcendentalism,  is  it  not  a  plain  truth 
of  sense,  which  the  duller  mind  can  even  consider  as  a  truism, 
that  human  things  wholly  are  in  continual  movement,  and  action 
and  reaction ;  working  continually  forward,  phasis  after  phasis, 
by  unalterable  laws,  towards  prescribed  issues?  How  often 
must  we  say,  and  yet  not  rightly  lay  to  heart :  The  seed  that  is 
sown,  it  will  spring!  Given  the  summer's  blossoming,  then 
there  is  also  given  the  autumnal  withering:  so  is  it  ordered  not 
with  seedfields  only,  but  with  transactions,  arrangements,  philos- 
ophies, societies,  French  Revolutions,  whatsoever  man  works 
with  in  this  lower  world.  The  Beginning  holds  in  it  the  End, 
and  all  that  leads  thereto ;  as  the  acorn  does  the  oak  and  its 
fortunes.  Solemn  enough,  did  we  think  of  it, — which  unhap- 
pily, and  also  happily,  we  do  not  very  much !  Thou  there  canst 
begin ;  the  Beginning  is  for  thee,  and  there :  but  where,  and 
of  what  sort,  and  for  whom  will  the  End  be?  All  grows,  and 
seeks  and  endures  its  destinies :  consider  likewise  how  much 
grows,  as  the  trees  do,  whether  zs.'e  think  of  it  or  not.  So  that 
when  your  Epimenides,  your  somnolent  Peter  Klaus,  since 
named  Rip  van  Winkle,  awakens  again,  he  finds  it  a  changed 
world.  In  that  seven-years  sleep  of  his,  so  much  has  changed ! 
All  that  is  without  us  will  change  while  we  think  not  of  it ;  much 
even  that  is  within  us.  The  truth  that  was  yesterday  a  restless 
Problem,  has  to-day  grown  a  Belief  burning  to  be  uttered :  on 
the  morrow,  contradiction  has  exasperated  it  into  mad  Fanat- 
icism ;  obstruction  has  dulled  it  into  sick  Inertness ;  it  is  sinking 
towards  silence,  of  satisfaction  or  of  resignation.  To-day  is  not 
Yesterday,  for  man  or  for  thing.  Yesterday  there  was  the  oath 
of  Love  ;  to-day  has  come  the  curse  of  Hate.  Not  willingly :  ah, 
no  ;  but  it  could  not  help  coming.  The  golden  radiance  of  youth, 
would  it  willingly  have  tarnished  itself  into  the  dimness  of  old 
age? — Fearful:  how  we  stand  enveloped,  deep-sunk,  in  that 
Mystery  of  Time;  and  are  Sons  of  Time;  fashioned  and  woven 
Vol.  I. — 22 


33S  CARLYLE  [1790 

out  of  Time ;  and  on  us,  and  on  all  that  we  have,  or  see,  or  do,  is 
written :  Rest  not.  Continue  not.  Forward  to  thy  doom ! 

But  in  seasons  of  Revolution,  which  indeed  distinguish  them- 
selves from  common  seasons  by  their  velocity  mainly,  your 
miraculous  Seven-sleeper  might,  with  miracle  enough,  awake 
sooner:  not  by  the  century,  or  seven  years,  need  he  sleep;  often 
not  by  the  seven  months.  Fancy,  for  example,  some  new  Peter 
Klaus,  sated  with  the  jubilee  of  that  Federation  day,  had  lain 
down,  say  directly  after  the  Blessing  of  Talleyrand ;  and, 
reckoning  it  all  safe  now,  had  fallen  composedly  asleep  under 
the  timber-work  of  the  Fatherland's  Altar;  to  sleep  there,  not 
twenty-one  years,  but  as  it  were  year  and  day.  The  cannon- 
ading of  Nanci,  so  far  ofif,  does  not  disturb  him ;  nor  does  the 
black  mortcloth,  close  at  hand,  nor  the  requiems  chanted,  and 
minute-guns,  incense-pans  and  concourse  right  over  his  head : 
none  of  these ;  but  Peter  sleeps  through  them  all.  Through  one 
circling  year,  as  we  say  ;  from  July  the  14th  of  1790,  till  July  the 
17th  of  1791 :  but  on  that  latter  day,  no  Klaus,  nor  most  leaden 
Epimenides,  only  the  Dead  could  continue  sleeping:  and  so  our 
miraculous  Peter  Klaus  awakens.  With  what  eyes,  O  Peter ! 
Earth  and  sky  have  still  their  joyous  July  look,  and  the  Champ- 
de-Mars  is  multitudinous  with  men:  but  the  jubilee-huzzahing 
has  become  Bedlam-shrieking,  of  terror  and  revenge ;  not  bless- 
ing of  Talleyrand,  or  any  blessing,  but  cursing,  imprecation  and 
shrill  wail;  our  cannon-salvoes  are  turned  to  sharp  shot;  for 
swinging  of  incense-pans  and  Eighty-three  Departmental  Ban- 
ners, we  have  waving  of  the  one  sanguineous  Drapeau  Rouge, — 
Thou  foolish  Klaus!  The  one  lay  in  the  other,  the  one  was  the 
other  minus  Time;  even  as  Hannibal's  rock-rending  vinegar  lay 
in  the  sweet  new  wine.  That  sweet  Federation  was  of  last  year; 
this  sour  Divulsion  is  the  selfsame  substance,  only  older  by  the 
appointed  days. 

No  miraculous  Klaus  or  Epimenides  sleeps  in  these  times  ;  and 
yet,  may  not  many  a  man,  if  of  due  opacity  and  levity,  act  the 
same  miracle  in  a  natural  way ;  we  mean,  with  his  eyes  open  ? 
Eyes  has  he,  but  he  sees  not,  except  what  is  under  his  nose. 
With  a  sparkling  briskness  of  glance,  as  if  he  not  only  saw  but 
saw  through,  such  a  one  goes  whisking,  assiduous,  in  his  circle 
of  officialities ;  not  dreaming  but  that  it  is  the  whole  world :  as 
indeed,  where  your  vision  terminates,  does  not  inanity  begin 
there,   and   the    world's   end    clearly   disclose    itself — to   you? 


I790]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION 


339 


Whereby  our  brisk-sparkling  assiduous  official  person  (call  him, 
for  instance,  Lafayette),  suddenly  startled,  after  year  and  day, 
by  huge  grapeshot  tumult,  stares  not  less  astonished  at  it  than 
Peter  Klaus  would  have  done.  Such  natural-miracle  can  La- 
fayette perform  ;  and  indeed  not  he  only  but  most  other  officials, 
non-officials,  and  generally  the  whole  French  People  can  per- 
form it ;  and  do  bounce  up,  ever  and  anon,  like  amazed  Seven- 
sleepers  awakening;  awakening  amazed  at  the  noise  they 
themselves  make.  So  strangely  is  Freedom,  as  we  say,  environed 
in  Necessity ;  such  a  singular  Somnambulism,  of  Conscious  and 
Unconscious,  of  Voluntary  and  Involuntary,  is  this  life  of  man. 
If  anywhere  in  the  world  there  was  astonishment  that  the 
Federation  Oath  went  into  grapeshot,  surely  of  all  persons  the 
French,  first  swearers  and  then  shooters,  felt  astonished  the 
most. 

Alas,  offences  must  come.  The  sublime  Feast  of  Pikes  with 
its  effulgence  of  brotherly  love,  unknown  since  the  Age  of  Gold, 
has  changed  nothing.  That  prurient  heat  in  Twenty-five  millions 
of  hearts  is  not  cooled  thereby ;  but  is  still  hot,  nay  hotter.  Lift 
oft'  the  pressure  of  command  from  so  many  millions  ;  all  pressure 
or  binding  rule,  except  such  melodramatic  Federation  Oath  as 
they  have  bound  themselves  with  !  For  Thou  shalt  was  from  of 
old  the  condition  of  man's  being,  and  his  weal  and  blessedness 
was  in  obeying  that.  Woe  for  him  when,  were  it  on  the  best  of 
the  clearest  necessity,  rebellion,  disloyal  isolation,  and  mere  / 
zvill,  becomes  his  rule  1  But  the  Gospel  of  Jean-Jacques  has 
come,  and  the  first  Sacrament  of  it  has  been  celebrated :  all 
things,  as  we  say,  are  got  into  hot  and  hotter  prurience ;  and 
must  go  on  pruriently  fermenting,  in  continual  change  noted  or 
unnoted. 

"  Worn  out  with  disgusts,"  Captain  after  Captain,  in  Royalist 
mustachioes,  mounts  his  war-horse,  or  his  Rozinante  war-gar- 
ron,  and  rides  minatory  across  the  Rhine ;  till  all  have  ridden. 
Neither  does  civic  Emigration  cease ;  Seigneur  after  Seigneur 
must,  in  like  manner,  ride  or  roll ;  impelled  to  it,  and  even  com- 
pelled. For  the  very  Peasants  despise  him,  in  that  he  dare  not 
join  his  order  and  fight.a  Can  he  bear  to  have  a  Distaff,  a 
Qucnouille  sent  to  him :  say  in  copper-plate  shadow,  by  post ;  or 
fixed  up  in  wooden  reality  over  his  gate-lintel :  as  if  he  were  no 
Hercules,  but  an  Omphale?     Such  scutcheon  they  forward  to 

o  Dampniartin,  passim. 


340  CARLYLE  [i  790— 91 

him  diligently  from  beyond  the  Rhine;  till  he  too  bestir  himself 
and  march,  and  in  sour  humor  another  Lord  of  Land  is  gone, 
not  taking  the  Land  with  him.  Nay,  what  of  Captains  and 
emigrating  Seigneurs  ?  There  is  not  an  angry  word  on  any  of 
those  Twenty-five  million  French  tongues,  and  indeed  not  an 
angry  thought  in  their  hearts,  but  is  some  fraction  of  the  great 
Battle.  Add  many  successions  of  angry  words  together,  you 
have  the  manual  brawl ;  add  brawls  together,  with  the  festering 
sorrows  they  leave,  and  they  rise  to  riots  and  revolts.  One 
reverend  thing  after  another  ceases  to  meet  reverence :  in  visible 
material  combustion,  chateau  after  chateau  mounts  up ;  in 
spiritual  invisible  combustion,  one  authority  after  another. 
With  noise  and  glare,  or  noiselessly  and  unnoted,  a  whole  Old 
System  of  things  is  vanishing  piecemeal :  the  morrow  thou  shalt 
look,  and  it  is  not. 

Chapter  II.— The  Wakeful. 

Sleep  who  will,  cradled  in  hope  and  short  vision,  like  La- 
fayette, who  "  always  in  the  danger  done  sees  the  last  danger 
that  will  threaten  him," — Time  is  not  sleeping,  nor  Time's  seed- 
field. 

That  sacred  Herald's-College  of  a  new  Dynasty;  we  mean 
the  Sixty  and  odd  Billstickers  with  their  leaden  badges,  are  not 
sleeping.  Daily  they,  with  pastepot  and  cross-staff,  new-clothe 
the  walls  of  Paris  in  colors  of  the  rainbow :  authoritative-he- 
raldic, as  we  say,  or  indeed  almost  magical-thaumaturgic ;  for 
no  Placard-Journal  that  they  paste  but  will  convince  some  soul 
or  souls  of  men.  The  Hawkers  bawl ;  and  the  Balladsingers : 
great  Journalism  blows  and  blusters,  through  all  its  throats, 
forth  from  Paris  towards  all  corners  of  France,  like  an  ^Eolus' 
Cave ;  keeping  alive  all  manner  of  fires. 

Throats  or  Journals  there  are,  as  men  count,^  to  the  number 
of  some  Hundred  and  thirty-three.  Of  various  calibre ;  from 
your  Cheniers,  Gorsascs,  Camilles,  down  to  your  Marat,  down 
now  to  your  incipient  Hebert  of  the  Pcre  Duchesne:  these  blow, 
with  fierce  weight  of  argument  or  quick  light  banter,  for  the 
Rights  of  Man:  Durosoys,  Royous,  Peltiers,  SuUeaus,  equally 
with  mixed  tactics  (inclusive,  singular  to  say,  of  much  profane 
Parody)  ,c  are  blowing  for  Altar  and  Throne.    As  for  Marat  the 

b  Mercier,  iii.  163.  c  See  Hist.  Pari.  vii.  51. 


1790—91]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  341 

People's-Friend,  his  voice  is  as  that  of  the  bullfrog,  or  bittern 
by  the  solitary  pools ;  he,  unseen  of  men,  croaks  harsh  thunder, 
and  that  alone  continually, — of  indignation,  suspicion,  incurable 
sorrow.  The  People  are  sinking  towards  ruin,  near  starvation 
itself :  "  My  dear  friends,"  cries  he,  "  your  indigence  is  not  the 
fruit  of  vices  nor  of  idleness ;  you  have  a  right  to  life,  as  good 
as  Louis  XVI,  or  the  happiest  of  the  century.  What  man  can 
say  he  has  a  right  to  dine,  when  you  have  no  bread?  "^  The 
People  sinking  on  the  one  hand :  on  the  other  hand,  nothing  but 
wretched  Sieur  Motiers,  treasonous  Riquetti  Mirabeaus : 
traitors,  or  else  shadows  and  simulacra  of  Quacks  to  be  seen  in 
high  places,  look  w^here  you  will !  Men  that  go  mincing, 
grimacing,  with  plausible  speech  and  brushed  raiment ;  hollow 
within :  Quacks  political ;  Quacks  scientific,  academical :  all  with 
a  fellow-feeling  for  each  other,  and  kind  of  Quack  public-spirit ! 
Not  great  Lavoisier  himself,  or  any  of  the  Forty  can  escape  this 
rough  tongue ;  which  wants  not  fanatic  sincerity,  nor,  strangest 
of  all,  a  certain  rough  caustic  sense.  And  then  the  "  three  thou- 
sand gaming-houses "  that  are  in  Paris ;  cesspools  for  the 
scoundrelism  of  the  world ;  sinks  of  iniquity  and  debauchery, — • 
whereas  without  good  morals  Liberty  is  impossible !  There,  in 
these  Dens  of  Satan,  which  one  knows,  and  perseveringly  de- 
nounces, do  Sieur  Motier's  mouchards  consort  and  colleague ; 
battening  vampire-like  on  a  People  next-door  to  starvation. 
"  O  Peuple ! "  cries  he  ofttimes,  with  heart-rending  accent. 
Treason,  delusion,  vampirism,  scoundrelism,  from  Dan  to  Beer- 
sheba !  The  soul  of  Marat  is  sick  with  the  sight :  but  what 
remedy?  To  erect  "Eight  Hundred  gibbets,"  in  convenient 
rows,  and  proceed  to  hoisting ;  "  Riquetti  on  the  first  of  them !  " 
Such  is  the  brief  recipe  of  Marat,  Friend  of  the  People. 

So  blow  and  bluster  the  Hundred  and  thirty-three:  nor,  as 
would  seem,  are  these  sufficient ;  for  there  are  benighted  nooks 
in  France,  to  which  Newspapers  do  not  reach ;  and  everywhere 
is  "  such  an  appetite  for  news  as  was  never  seen  in  any  coimtry." 
"  Let  an  expeditious  Dampmartin,  on  furlough,  set  out  to  return 
home  from  Paris,^  he  cannot  get  along  for  "  peasants  stopping 
him  on  the  highway ;  overwhelming  him  with  questions :  "  the 
Maitre  de  Poste  will  not  send  out  the  horses  till  you  have  well- 

d  Ami  du  Peuple,  No.  306.     Sec  other  Excerpts  in  Hist.  Pari.  viii. 
139-149,  428-433;  ix.  85-93,  &c. 
e  Dampmartin,  i.  184. 


342  CARLYLE  I1790— 9i 

nigh  quarrelled  with  him,  but  asks  always,  What  news?  At 
Autun,  in  spite  of  the  dark  night  and  "  rigorous  frost,"  for  it 
is  now  January  1791,  nothing  will  serve  but  you  must  gather 
your  wayworn  limbs  and  thoughts,  and  "  speak  to  the  multitudes 
from  a  window  opening  into  the  market-place."  It  is  the  short- 
est method :  This,  good  Christian  people,  is  verily  what  an 
august  Assembly  seemed  to  me  to  be  doing;  this  and  no  other 
is  the  news : 

Now  my  weary  lips  I  close ; 

Leave  me,  leave  me  to  repose? 

The  good  Dampmartin ! — But,  on  the  whole,  are  not  Nations  as- 
tonishingly true  to  their  National  character ;  which  indeed  runs 
in  the  blood?  Nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  Julius  Caesar,  with 
his  quick  sure  eye,  took  note  how  the  Gauls  waylaid  men.  "  It 
is  a  habit  of  theirs,"  says  he,  "  to  stop  travellers,  were  it  even 
by  constraint,  and  inquire  whatsover  each  of  them  may  have 
heard  or  known  about  any  sort  of  matter :  in  their  towns,  the 
common  people  beset  the  passing  trader ;  demanding  to  hear 
from  what  regions  he  came,  what  things  he  got  acquainted  with 
there.  Excited  by  which  rumors  and  hearsays,  they  will  decide 
about  the  weightiest  matters ;  and  necessarily  repent  next 
moment  that  they  did  it,  on  such  guidance  of  uncertain  reports, 
and  many  a  traveller  answering  with  mere  fictions  to  please 
them,  and  get  ofi."f  Nineteen  hundred  years  ;  and  good  Damp- 
martin,  wayworn,  in  winter  frost,  probably  with  scant  light  of 
stars  and  fish-oil,  still  perorates  from  the  Inn-window!  This 
People  is  no  longer  called  Gaulish ;  and  it  has  wholly  become 
hraccatus,  has  got  breeches,  and  suffered  change  enough :  cer- 
tain fierce  German  Franken  came  storming  over;  and.  so  to 
speak,  vaulted  on  the  back  of  it ;  and  always  after,  in  their  grim 
tenacious  way,  have  ridden  it  bridled  ;  for  German  is,  by  his  very 
name,  Guerre-rmn,  or  man  that  zvars  and  gars.  And  so  the 
People,  as  we  say,  is  now  called  French  or  Prankish ;  neverthe- 
less, does  not  the  old  Gaulish  and  Gaelic  Celthood,  with  its 
vehemence,  effervescent  promptitude,  and  what  good  and  ill  it 
had,  still  vindicate  itself  little  adulterated  ? — 

For  the  rest,  that  in  such  prurient  confusion,  Clubbism 
thrives  and  spreads,  need  not  be  said.  Already  the  Mother  of 
Patriotism,  sitting  in  the  Jacobins,  shines  supreme  over  all ;  and 

fDe  Bcllo  Gallico,  lib.  iv.  5. 


I790-9I]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  343 

has  paled  the  poor  lunar  light  of  that  Monarchic  Club  near  to 
final  extinction.  She,  we  say,  shines  supreme,  girt  with  sun- 
light, not  yet  with  infernal  lightning;  reverenced,  not  without 
fear,  by  Municipal  Authorities ;  counting  her  Barnaves,  La- 
meths,  Petions,  of  a  National  Assembly;  most  gladly  of  all,  her 
Robespierre.  Cordeliers,  again,  your  Hebert,  Vincent,  Biblio- 
polist  Momoro,  groan  audibly  that  a  tyrannous  Mayor  and  Sieur 
Motier  harrow  them  with  the  sharp  trihula  of  Law,  intent  ap- 
parently to  suppress  them  by  tribulation.  How  the  Jacobin 
Mother  Society,  as  hinted  formerly,  sheds  forth  Cordeliers  on 
this  hand,  and  then  Feuillans  on  that ;  the  Cordeliers  "  an  elixir 
or  double  distillation  of  Jacobin  Patriotism ;  "  the  other  a  wide- 
spread weak  dilution  thereof :  how  she  will  reabsorb  the  former 
into  her  mother  bosom,  and  stormfully  dissipate  the  latter  into 
Nonentity:  how  she  breeds  and  brings  forth  Three  Hundred 
Daughter  Societies ;  her  rearing  of  them,  her  correspondence, 
her  endeavorings  and  continual  travail :  how,  under  an  old  fig- 
ure, Jacobinism  shoots  forth  organic  filaments  to  the  utmost 
corners  of  confused  dissolved  France;  organizing  it  anew: — 
this  properly  is  the  grand  fact  of  the  Time. 

To  passionate  Constitutionalism,  still  more  to  Royalism, 
which  see  all  their  own  Clubs  fail  and  die,  Clubbism  will  natural- 
ly grow  to  seem  the  root  of  all  evil.  Nevertheless  Clubbism  is 
not  death,  but  rather  new  organization,  and  life  out  of  death: 
destructive,  indeed,  of  the  remnants  of  the  Old  ;  but  to  the  New 
important,  indispensable.  That  man  can  co-operate  and  hold 
communion  with  man,  herein  lies  his  miraculous  strength.  In 
hut  or  hamlet,  Patriotism  mourns  not  now  like  voice  in  the 
desert :  it  can  walk  to  the  nearest  Town ;  and  there,  in  the 
Daughter  Society,  make  its  ejaculation  into  an  articulate  oration, 
into  an  action,  guided  forward  by  the  Mother  of  Patriotism 
herself.  All  Clubs  of  Constitutionalists,  and  suchlike,  fail,  one 
after  another,  as  shallow  fountains :  Jacobinism  alone  has  gone 
down  to  the  deep  subterranean  lake  of  waters  ;  and  may,  unless 
ailed  in,  flow  there,  copious,  continual,  like  an  Artesian  well. 
Till  the  Great  Deep  have  drained  itself  up  ;  and  all  be  flooded  and 
submerged,  and  Noah's  Deluge  out-deluged ! 

On  the  other  hand,  Claude  Fauchet,  preparing  mankind  for 
a  Golden  Age  now  apparently  just  at  hand,  has  opened  his 
Cercle  Social,  with  clerks,  corresponding  boards,  and  so  forth ; 
in  the  precincts  of  the  Palais  Royal.     It  is  Te-Deum  Fauchet ; 


344  CARLYLE  [i79» 

the  same  who  preached  on  FrankHn's  Death,  in  that  huge  Me- 
dicean  rotunda  of  the  HaUe-aux-blcds.  He  here,  this  winter,  by 
Printing-press  and  melodious  Colloquy,  spreads  bruit  of  him- 
self to  the  utmost  City-barriers.  "  Ten  thousand  persons  of  re- 
spectability "  attend  there ;  and  listen  to  this  "  Procurcur-Gcne- 
ral  de  la  Verite,  Attorney-General  of  Truth,"  so  has  he  dubbed 
himself;  to  his  sage  Condorcet,  or  other  eloquent  coadjutor. 
Eloquent  Attorney-General !  He  blows  out  from  him,  better  or 
worse,  what  crude  or  ripe  thing  he  holds :  not  without  result  to 
himself ;  for  it  leads  to  a  Bishopric,  though  only  a  Constitutional 
one.  Fauchet  approves  himself  a  glib-tongued,  strong-lunged, 
whole-hearted  human  individual :  much  flowing  matter  there  is, 
and  really  of  the  better  sort,  about  Right,  Nature,  Benevolence, 
Progress  ;  which  flowing  matter,  whether  "  it  is  pan-theistic,"  or 
is  pot-theistic,  only  the  greener  mind,  in  these  days,  need  ex- 
amine. Busy  Brissot  was  long  ago  of  purpose  to  establish 
precisely  some  such  regenerative  Social  Circle:  nay  he  had  tried 
it  in  "  Newman-street  Oxford-street,"  of  the  Fog  Babylon;  and 
failed, — as  some  say,  surreptitiously  pocketing  the  cash. 
Fauchet,  not  Brissot,  was  fated  to  be  the  happy  man ;  whereat, 
however,  generous  Brissot  will  with  sincere  heart  sing  a  timber- 
toned  Nunc  Domine.g  But  "  ten  thousand  persons  of  re- 
spectability :  "  what  a  bulk  have  many  things  in  proportion  to 
their  magnitude !  This  Cerclc  Social,  for  which  Brissot  chants 
in  sincere  timber-tones  such  Nunc  Domine,  what  is  it?  Unfor- 
tunately wind  and  shadow.  The  main  reality  one  finds  in  it  now, 
is  perhaps  this :  that  an  "  Attorney-General  of  Truth  "  did  once 
take  shape  of  a  body,  as  Son  of  Adam,  on  our  Earth,  though  but 
for  months  or  moments ;  and  ten  thousand  persons  of  respecta- 
bility attended,  ere  yet  Chaos  and  Nox  had  reabsorbed  him. 

Hundred  and  thirty-three  Paris  Journals ;  regenerative  Social 
Circle ;  oratory,  in  Mother  and  Daughter  Societies,  from  the 
balconies  of  Inns,  by  chimney-nook,  at  dinner-table, — polemical, 
ending  many  times  in  duel !  And  ever,  like  a  constant  growling 
accompaniment  of  bass  Discord :  scarcity  of  work,  scarcity  of 
food.  The  winter  is  hard  and  cold  ;  ragged  Bakers'-queues,  like 
a  black  tattered  flag-of-distress,  wave  out  ever  and  anon.  It  is 
the  third  of  our  Hunger-years,  this  new  year  of  a  glorious 
Revolution.    The  rich  man  when  invited  to  dinner,  in  such  dis- 

g  See  Brissot,  Patriotc-Francais  Newspaper ;  Fauchet,  Bouche-de-Fer, 
&c.  (excerpted  in  Hist.  Pari.  viii.  ix.  et  seqq.). 


1791]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  345 

tress-seasons,  feels  bound  in  politeness  to  carry  his  own  bread  in 
his  pocket :  how  the  poor  dine?  And  your  glorious  Revolution 
has  done  it,  cries  one.  And  our  glorious  Revolution  is  subtilely, 
by  black  traitors  worthy  of  the  Lamp-iron,  perverted  to  do  it, 
cries  another.  Who  \\n\\  paint  the  huge  whirlpool  wherein 
France,  all  shivered  into  wild  incoherence,  whirls?  The  jarring 
that  went  on  under  every  French  roof,  in  every  French  heart ; 
the  diseased  things  that  were  spoken,  done,  the  sum-total  whereof 
is  the  French  Revolution,  tongue  of  man  cannot  tell.  Nor  the 
laws  of  action  that  work  unseen  in  the  depths  of  that  huge  blind 
Incoherence !  With  amazement,  not  with  measurement,  men 
look  on  the  Immeasurable ;  not  knowing  its  laws ;  seeing,  with 
all  different  degrees  of  knowledge,  what  new  phases,  and  re- 
sults of  events,  its  laws  bring  forth.  France  is  as  a  monstrous 
Galvanic  Mass,  wherein  all  sorts  of  far  stranger  than  chemical 
galvanic  or  electric  forces  and  substances  are  at  work ;  electri- 
fying one  another,  positive  and  negative ;  filling  with  electricity 
your  Leyden-jars, — Twenty-five  millions  in  number!  As  the 
jars  get  full,  there  will,  from  time  to  time,  be,  on  slight  hint,  an 
explosion. 

Chapter  III. — Sword  in  Hand. 

On  such  wonderful  basis,  however,  has  Law,  Royalty,  Au- 
thority, and  whatever  yet  exists  of  visible  Order,  to  maintain 
itself,  while  it  can.  Here,  as  in  that  Commixture  of  the  Four 
Elements  did  the  Anarch  Old,  has  an  august  Assembly  spread 
its  pavilion ;  curtained  by  the  dark  infinite  of  discords ;  founded 
on  the  wavering  bottomless  of  the  Abyss ;  and  keeps  continual 
hubbub.  Time  is  around  it,  and  Eternity,  and  the  Inane ;  and  it 
does  what  it  can,  what  is  given  it  to  do. 

Glancing  reluctantly  in,  once  more,  we  discern  little  that  is 
edifying :  a  Constitutional  Theory  of  Defective  Verbs  struggling 
forward,  with  perseverance,  amid  endless  interruptions:  Mira- 
beau,  from  his  tribune,  with  the  weight  of  his  name  and  genius, 
awing-down  much  Jacobin  violence ;  which  in  return  vents  it- 
self the  louder  over  in  its  Jacobins  Hall,  and  even  reads  him 
sharp  lectures  there.«  This  man's  path  is  mysterious,  question- 
able ;  dif^cult,  and  he  walks  without  companion  in  it.  Pure 
Patriotism  docs  not  now  count  him  among  her  chosen ;  pure 

o  Camille's  Journal  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  366-85). 


346  CARLYLE  [1790 

Royalism  abhors  him :  yet  his  weight  with  the  world  is  over- 
whelming. Let  him  travel  on,  companionless,  unwavering, 
whither  he  is  bound, — while  it  is  yet  day  with  him,  and  the  night 
has  not  come. 

But  the  chosen  band  of  pure  Patriot  brothers  is  small ;  count- 
ing only  some  Thirty,  seated  now  on  the  extreme  tip  of  the  Left, 
separate  from  the  world.  A  virtuous  Petion ;  an  incorruptible 
Robespierre,  most  consistent,  incorruptible  of  thin  acrid  men; 
Triumvirs  Barnave,  Duport,  Lameth,  great  in  speech,  thought, 
action,  each  according  to  his  kind ;  a  lean  old  Goupil  de  Prefeln : 
on  these  and  what  will  follow  them  has  pure  Patriotism  to  de- 
pend. 

There  too,  conspicuous  among  the  Thirty,  if  seldom  audible, 
Philippe  d'Orleans  may  be  seen  sitting:  in  dim  fuliginous  be- 
wilderment ;  having,  one  might  say,  arrived  at  Chaos !  Gleams 
there  are,  at  once  of  a  Lieutenancy  and  Regency ;  debates  in  the 
Assembly  itself,  of  succession  to  the  Throne  "  in  case  the  present 
Branch  should  fail ;  "  and  Philippe,  they  say,  walked  anxiously, 
in  silence,  through  the  corridors,  till  such  high  argument  were 
done :  but  it  came  all  to  nothing ;  Mirabeau,  glaring  into  the 
man,  and  through  him,  had  to  ejaculate  in  strong  untranslatable 
language :  "  Ce  j —  / —  ne  vaut  pas  la  peine  qu'on  se  donne  pour 
lui."  It  came  all  to  nothing ;  and  in  the  mean  while  Philippe's 
money,  they  say,  is  gone !  Could  he  refuse  a  little  cash  to  the 
gifted  Patriot,  in  want  only  of  that ;  he  himself  in  want  of  all 
hut  that  ?  Not  a  pamphlet  can  be  printed  without  cash ;  or  in- 
deed written  without  food  purchasable  by  cash.  Without  cash 
your  hopefulest  Projector  cannot  stir  from  the  spot ;  individual 
patriotic  or  other  Projects  require  cash :  how  much  more  do 
wide-spread  Intrigues,  which  live  and  exist  by  cash  ;  lying  wide- 
spread, with  dragon-appetite  for  cash ;  fit  to  swallow  Prince- 
doms !  And  so  Prince  Philippe,  amid  his  Sillerys,  Lacloses  and 
confused  Sons  of  Night,  has  rolled  along:  the  centre  of  the 
strangest  cloudy  coil ;  out  of  which  has  visibly  come,  as  we 
often  say,  an  Epic  Preternatural  Machinery  of  Suspicion;  and 
zvithin  which  there  has  dwelt  and  worked, — what  specialties  of 
treason,  stratagem,  aimed  or  aimless  endeavor  towards  mischief, 
no  party  living  (if  it  be  not  the  presiding  Genius  of  it.  Prince  of 
the  Power  of  the  Air)  has  now  any  chance  to  know.  Camille's 
conjecture  is  the  likeliest :  that  poor  Philippe  did  mount  up,  a 
little  way,  in  treasonable  speculation,  as  he  mounted  formerly  in 


August]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  347 

one  of  the  earliest  Balloons ;  but,  frightened  at  the  new  position 
he  was  getting  into,  had  soon  turned  the  cock  again,  and  come 
down.  More  fool  than  he  rose !  To  create  Preternatural  Sus- 
picion, this  was  his  function  in  the  Revolutionary  Epos.  But 
now  if  he  have  lost  his  cornucopia  of  ready-money,  what  else  had 
he  to  lose?  In  thick  darkness,  inward  and  outward,  he  must 
welter  and  flounder  on,  in  that  piteous  death-element,  the  hapless 
man.  Once,  or  even  twice,  we  shall  still  behold  him  emerged; 
struggling  out  of  the  thick  death-element :  in  vain.  For  one 
moment,  it  is  the  last  moment,  he  starts  aloft,  or  is  flung  aloft, 
even  into  clearness  and  a  kind  of  memorability, — to  sink  then 
forevermore ! 

The  Cote  Droit  persists  no  less  ;  nay  with  more  animation  than 
ever,  though  hope  has  now  well-nigh  fled.  Tough  Abbe  Maury, 
when  the  obscure  country  Royalist  grasps  his  hand  with  trans- 
port of  thanks,  answers,  rolling  his  indomitable  brazen  head: 
"  Helas,  Motisieur,  all  that  I  do  here  is  as  good  as  simply  noth- 
ingy  Gallant  Faussigny,  visible  this  one  time  in  History,  ad- 
vances frantic  into  the  middle  of  the  Hall,  exclaiming :  '*  There 
is  but  one  way  of  dealing  wnth  it,  and  that  is  to  fall  sword  in 
hand  on  those  gentry  there,  sabre  a  la  main  sur  ces  gaillards 
la,"b  frantically  indicating  our  chosen  Thirty  on  the  extreme  tip 
of  the  Left !  Whereupon  is  clangor  and  clamor,  debate,  re- 
pentance,— evaporation.  Things  ripen  towards  downright  in- 
compatibility, and  what  is  called  "  scission  :  "  that  fierce  theoretic 
onslaught  of  Faussigny's  was  in  August  1790;  next  August 
will  not  have  come,  till  a  famed  Two  Hundred  and  Ninety-two, 
the  chosen  of  Royalism,  make  solemn  final  "  scission  "  from  an 
Assembly  given  up  to  faction ;  and  depart,  shaking  the  dust  ofif 
their  feet. 

Connected  with  this  matter  of  sword  in  hand,  there  is  yet 
another  thing  to  be  noted.  Of  duels  we  have  sometimes  spoken  : 
how,  in  all  parts  of  France,  innumerable  duels  were  fought ;  and 
argumentative  men  and  messmates,  flinging  down  the  wine-cup 
and  weapons  of  reason  and  repartee,  met  in  the  measured  field; 
to  part  bleeding;  or  perhaps  not  to  part,  but  to  fall  mutually 
skewered  through  with  iron,  their  wrath  and  life  alike  ending, — 
and  die  as  fools  die.  Long  has  this  lasted,  and  still  lasts.  But 
now  it  would  seem  as  if  in  an  august  Assembly  itself,  traitorous 
Royalism,  in  its  despair,  had  taken  to  a  new  course :  that  of 
b  Moniteur,  Seance  du  21  Aout  1790. 


348  CARLYLE  [1790 

cutting  off  Patriotism  by  systematic  duel !  Bully  swordsmen, 
"  Spadassins  "  of  that  party,  go  swaggering ;  or  indeed  they  can 
be  had  for  a  trifle  of  money.  "  Twelve  Spadassins  "  were  seen, 
by  the  yellow  eye  of  Journalism,  "  arriving  recently  out  of  Swit- 
zerland ;  "  also  "  a  considerable  number  of  Assassins,  nomhrc 
considerable  d'assassins,  exercising  in  fencing-schools  and  at 
pistol-targets."  Any  Patriot  Deputy  of  mark  can  be  called  out ; 
let  him  escape  one  time,  or  ten  times,  a  time  there  necessarily  is 
when  he  must  fall,  and  France  mourn.  How  many  cartels  has 
Mirabeau  had ;  especially  while  he  was  the  People's  champion ! 
Cartels  by  the  hundred :  which  he,  since  the  Constitution  must 
be  made  first,  and  his  time  is  precious,  answers  now  always  with 
a  kind  of  stereotype  formula:  "  Monsieur,  you  are  put  upon  my 
List ;  but  I  warn  you  that  it  is  long,  and  I  grant  no  preferences." 

Then,  in  Autumn,  had  we  not  the  Duel  of  Cazales  and  Bar- 
nave  ;  the  two  chief  masters  of  tongue-shot  meeting  now  to  ex- 
change pistol-shot?  For  Cazales,  chief  of  the  Royalists,  whom 
we  call  "  Blacks,  or  Noirs,"  said,  in  a  moment  of  passion,  "  the 
Patriots  were  sheer  Brigands,"  nay  in  so  speaking,  he  darted, 
or  seemed  to  dart,  a  fire-glance  specially  at  Barnave  ;  who  there- 
upon could  not  but  reply  by  fire-glances, — by  adjournment  to 
the  Bois-de-Boulogne.  Barnave's  second  shot  took  effect: 
on  Cazales'  hat.  The  '*  front  nook  "  of  a  triangular  Felt,  such 
as  mortals  then  wore,  deadened  the  ball;  and  saved  that  fine 
brow  from  more  than  temporary  injury.  But  how  easily  might 
the  lot  have  fallen  the  other  way,  and  Barnave's  hat  not  been 
so  good!  Patriotism  raises  its  loud  denunciation  of  Duelling  in 
general ;  petitions  an  august  Assembly  to  stop  such  Feudal 
barbarism  by  law.  Barbarism  and  solecism :  for  will  it  convince 
or  convict  any  man  to  blow  half  an  ounce  of  lead  through  the 
head  of  him  ?  Surely  not. — Barnave  was  received  at  the 
Jacobins  with  embraces,  yet  with  rebukes. 

Mindful  of  which,  and  also  that  his  reputation  in  America 
was  that  of  headlong  foolhardiness  rather,  and  want  of  brain 
not  of  heart,  Charles  Lameth  does,  on  the  eleventh  day  of  No- 
vember, with  little  emotion,  decline  attending  some  hot  young 
Gentleman  from  Artois,  come  expressly  to  challenge  him :  nay 
indeed  he  first  coldly  engages  to  attend  ;  then  coldly  permits  two 
Friends  to  attend  instead  of  him,  and  shame  the  young  Gentle- 
man out  of  it,  which  they  successfully  do.  A  cold  procedure ; 
satisfactory  to  the  two  Friends,  to  Lameth  and  the  hot  young 


Nov.  iith-i4th]       THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  349 

Gentleman ;  whereby,  one  might  have  fancied,  the  whole  matter 
was  cooled  down. 

Not  so,  however :  Lameth,  proceeding  to  his  senatorial  duties, 
in  the  decline  of  the  day,  is  met  in  those  Assembly  corridors  by 
nothing  but  Royalist  brocards;  snififs,  huffs  and  open  insults. 
Human  patience  has  its  limits :  "  Monsieur,"  said  Lameth, 
breaking  silence  to  one  Lautrec,  a  man  with  hunchback,  or 
natural  deformity,  but  sharp  of  tongue,  and  a  Black  of  the  deep- 
est tint,  "  Monsieur,  if  you  were  a  man  to  be  fought  with !  " — 
"I  am  one,"  cries  the  young  Duke  de  Castries.  Fast  as  fire-flash 
Lameth  replies,  "  Tout  a  I'lieure,  On  the  instant,  then!  "  And 
so,  as  the  shades  of  dusk  thicken  in  that  Bois-de-Boulogne,  we 
behold  two  men  with  lion-look,  with  alert  attitude,  side  foremost, 
right  foot  advanced ;  flourishing  and  thrusting,  stoccado  and 
passado,  in  tierce  and  quart;  intent  to  skewer  one  another.  See, 
with  most  skewering  purpose,  headlong  Lameth,  with  his  whole 
weight,  makes  a  furious  lunge ;  but  deft  Castries  whisks  aside : 
Lameth  skewers  only  the  air, — and  slits  deep  and  far,  on  Cas- 
tries' sword's-point,  his  own  extended  left  arm !  Whereupon, 
with  bleeding,  pallor,  surgeon's-lint  and  formalities,  the  Duel 
is  considered  satisfactorily  done. 

But  will  there  be  no  end,  then?  Beloved  Lameth  lies  deep- 
slit,  not  out  of  danger.  Black  traitorous  Aristocrats  kill  the 
People's  defenders,  cut  up  not  with  arguments,  but  with  rapier- 
slits.  And  the  Twelve  Spadassins  out  of  Switzerland,  and  the 
considerable  number  of  Assassins  exercising  at  the  pistol- 
target  ?  So  meditates  and  ejaculates  hurt  Patriotism,  with  ever- 
deepening,  ever-widening  fervor,  for  the  space  of  six-and-thirty 
hours. 

The  thirty-six  hours  past,  on  Saturday  the  13th,  one  beholds 
a  new  spectacle :  The  Rue  de  Varennes,  and  neighboring  Boule- 
vard des  Invalides,  covered  w'ith  a  mixed  flowing  multitude :  the 
Castries  Hotel  gone  distracted,  devil-ridden,  belching  from 
every  window,  "  beds  with  clothes  and  curtains,"  plate  of  silver 
and  gold  with  filigree,  mirrors,  pictures,  images,  commodes, 
chiffoniers,  and  endless  crockery  and  jingle:  amid  steady  popu- 
lar cheers,  absolutely  without  theft :  for  there  goes  a  cry,  "  He 
shall  be  hanged  that  steals  a  nail."  It  is  a  Plehiscitnm,  or  in- 
formal iconoclastic  Decree  of  the  Common  People,  in  the  course 
of  being  executed  ! — The  Municipality  sit  tremulous  ;  deliberat- 
ing whether  they  will  hang  out  the  Drapcau  Rouge  and  Martial 


350 


CARLYLE  [1790 


Law :  National  Assembly,  part  in  loud  wail,  part  in  hardly  sup- 
pressed applause;  Abbe  Maury  unable  to  decide  whether  the 
iconoclastic  Plebs  amount  to  forty  thousand  or  to  two  hundred 
thousand. 

Deputations,  swift  messengers, — for  it  is  at  a  distance  over 
the  River, — come  and  go.  Lafayette  and  National  Guards, 
though  without  Drapeau  Rouge,  get  under  way ;  apparently  in 
no  hot  haste.  Nay,  arrived  on  the  scene,  Lafayette  salutes  with 
doffed  hat,  before  ordering  to  fix  bayonets.  What  avails  it? 
The  Plebeian  "  Court  of  Cassation"  as  Camille  might  punningly 
name  it,  has  done  its  work ;  steps  forth,  with  unbuttoned  vest, 
with  pockets  turned  inside  out:  sack,  and  just  ravage,  not 
plunder !  With  inexhaustible  patience,  the  Hero  of  two  Worlds 
remonstrates;  persuasively,  with  a  kind  of  sweet  constraint, 
though  also  with  fixed  bayonets,  dissipates,  hushes  down :  on  the 
morrow  it  is  once  more  all  as  usual. 

Considering  which  things,  however,  Duke  Castries  may  justly 
"  write  to  the  President,"  justly  transport  himself  across  the 
Marches ;  to  raise  a  corps,  or  do  what  else  is  in  him.  Royalism 
totally  abandons  that  Bobadilian  method  of  contest,  and  the 
twelve  Spadassins  return  to  Switzerland — or  even  to  Dreamland 
through  the  Horn-gate,  whichsoever  their  true  home  is.  Nay 
Editor  Prudhomme  is  authorized  to  publish  a  curious  thing: 
"  We  are  authorized  to  publish,"  says  he,  dull-blustering  Pub- 
lisher, "  that  M.  Boyer  champion  of  good  Patriots  is  at  the  head 
of  Fifty  Spadassinicides  or  BuWy-killers.  His  address  is  :  Pass- 
age du  Bois-de-Boulogne,  Faubourg  St.  Denis. "a  One  of  the 
strangest  Institutes,  this  of  Champion  Boyer  and  the  Bully- 
killers  !  Whose  services,  however,  are  not  wanted :  Royalism 
having  abandoned  the  rapier  method,  as  plainly  impracticable. 


Chapter  IV.— To  Fly  or  Not  to  Fly. 

The  truth  is,  Royalism  sees  itself  verging  towards  sad  ex- 
tremities; nearer  and  nearer  daily.  From  over  the  Rhine  it 
comes  asserted  that  the  King  in  his  Tuileries  is  not  free :  this 
the  poor  King  may  contradict,  with  the  official  mouth,  but  in  his 
heart  feels  often  to  be  undeniable.  Civil  Constitution  of  the 
Clergy ;  Decree  of  ejectment  against  Dissidents  from  it :  not 

a  Revolutions  de  Paris  (in  Hist.  Pari.  viii.  440). 


I79I]  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION  351 

even  to  this  latter,  though  almost  his  conscience  rebels,  can  he 
say  Nay ;  but,  after  two  months'  hesitating,  signs  this  also.  It 
was  "on  January  21st,"  of  this  1791,  that  he  signed  it;  to  the 
sorrow  of  his  poor  heart  yet,  on  another  Twenty-first  of 
January!  Whereby  come  Dissident  ejected  Priests;  unconquer- 
able Martyrs  according  to  some,  incurable  chicaning  Traitors 
according  to  others.  And  so  there  has  arrived  what  we  once 
foreshadowed :  with  Religion,  or  with  the  Cant  and  Echo  of 
Religion,  all  France  is  rent  asunder  in  a  new  rupture  of  con- 
tinuity; complicating,  embittering  all  the  older; — to  be  cured 
only  by  stern  surgery,  in  La  Vendee ! 

Unhappy  Royalty,  unhappy  Majesty,  Hereditary  Representa- 
tive, Reprcsentant  Hereditaire,  or  howsoever  they  may  name 
him  ;  of  whom  much  is  expected,  to  whom  little  is  given !  Blue 
National  Guards  encircle  that  Tuileries ;  a  Lafayette,  thin  con- 
stitutional Pedant ;  clear,  thin,  inflexible,  as  water  turned  to  thin 
ice ;  whom  no  Queen's  heart  can  love.  National  Assembly,  its 
pavilion  spread  where  we  know,  sits  near  by,  keeping  continual 
hubbub.  From  without,  nothing  but  Nanci  Revolts,  sack  of 
Castries  Hotels,  riots  and  seditions;  riots  North  and  South,  at 
Aix,  at  Douai,  at  Befort,  Usez,  Perpignan,  at  Nismes,  and  that 
incurable  Avignon  of  the  Pope's :  a  continual  crackling  and 
sputtering  of  riots  from  the  whole  face  of  France ; — testifying 
how  electric  it  grows.  Add  only  the  hard  winter,  the  famished 
strikes  of  operatives ;  that  continual  running-bass  of  Scarcity, 
ground-tone  and  basis  of  all  other  Discords ! 

The  plan  of  Royalty,  so  far  as  it  can  be  said  to  have  any  fixed 
plan,  is  still,  as  ever,  that  of  flying  towards  the  frontiers.  In  very 
truth,  the  only  plan  of  the  smallest  promise  for  it !  Fly  to 
Bouille;  bristle  yourself  round  with  cannon,  served  by  your 
"  forty-thousand  undebauched  Germans ;  "  summon  the  Na- 
tional Assembly  to  follow  you,  summon  what  of  it  is  Royalist, 
Constitutional,  gainable  by  money ;  dissolve  the  rest,  by  grape- 
shot  if  need  be.  Let  Jacobinism  and  Revolt,  with  one  wild  wail, 
fly  into  Infinite  Space ;  driven  by  grapeshot.  Thunder  over 
France  with  the  cannon's  mouth ;  commanding,  not  entreating, 
that  this  riot  cease.  And  then  to  rule  afterwards  with  utmost 
possible  Constitutionality ;  doing  justice,  loving  mercy ;  being 
Shepherd  of  this  indigent  People,  not  Shearer  merely,  and  Shcp- 
herd's-similitude!  All  this,  if  ye  dare.  If  ye  dare  not,  then,  in 
Heaven's  name,  go  to  sleep :  other  handsome  alternative  seems 
none. 


352  CARLYLE  [1791 

Nay,  it  were  perhaps  possible ;  with  a  man  to  do  it.  For  if 
such  inexpressible  whirlpool  of  Babylonish  confusions  (which 
our  Era  is)  cannot  be  stilled  by  man,  but  only  by  Time  and  men, 
a  man  may  moderate  its  paroxysms,  may  balance  and  sway,  and 
keep  himself  unswallowed  on  the  top  of  it, — as  several  men  and 
Kings  in  these  days  do.  Much  is  possible  for  a  man ;  men  will 
obey  a  man  that  kens  and  cans,  and  name  him  reverently  their 
Ken-ning  or  King.  Did  not  Charlemagne  rule?  Consider,  too, 
whether  he  had  smooth  times  of  it ;  hanging  "  four-thousand 
Saxons  over  the  Weser-Bridge,"  at  one  dread  swoop !  So  like- 
wise, who  knows  but,  in  this  same  distracted  fanatic  France,  the 
right  man  may  verily  exist?  An  olive-complexioned  taciturn 
man ;  for  the  present.  Lieutenant  in  the  Artillery-service,  who 
once  sat  studying  Mathematics  at  Brienne?  The  same  who 
walked  in  the  morning  to  correct  proof-sheets  at  Dole,  and  en- 
joyed a  frugal  breakfast  with  M.  Joly?  Such  a  one  is  gone, 
whither  also  famed  General  Paoli  his  friend  is  gone,  in  these 
very  days,  to  see  old  scenes  in  native  Corsica,  and  what  Demo- 
cratic good  can  be  done  there. 

Royalty  never  executes  the  evasion  plan,  yet  never  abandons 
it ;  living  in  variable  hope ;  undecisive,  till  fortune  shall  decide. 
In  utmost  secrecy,  a  brisk  Correspondence  goes  on  with  Bouille ; 
there  is  also  a  plot,  which  emerges  more  than  once,  for  carrying 
the  King  to  Rouen :«  plot  after  plot  emerging  and  submerging, 
like  ignes  fatui  in  foul  weather,  which  lead  nowhither.  "  About 
ten  o'clock  at  night,"  the  Hereditary  Representative,  in  partie 
quarree,  with  the  Queen,  with  Brother  Monsieur,  and  Madame, 
sits  playing  "  zvisk,"  or  whist.  Usher  Campan  enters  mysteri- 
ously, with  a  message  he  only  half  comprehends :  How  a  certain 
Comte  DTnisdal  waits  anxious  in  the  outer  antechamber;  Na- 
tional Colonel,  Captain  of  the  watch  for  this  night,  is  gained 
over ;  post-horses  ready  all  the  way ;  party  of  Noblesse  sitting 
armed,  determined  ;  will  his  Majesty,  before  midnight,  consent 
to  go  ?  Profound  silence ;  Campan  waiting  with  upturned  ear. 
"  Did  your  Majesty  hear  what  Campan  said  ?  "  asks  the  Queen. 
"Yes,  I  heard,"  answers  Majesty,  and  plays  on.  **  'Twas  a 
pretty  couplet,  that  of  Campan's,"  hints  Monsieur,  who  at  times 
showed  a  pleasant  wit:  Majesty,  still  unresponsive,  plays  wisk. 
"  After  all,  one  must  say  something  to  Campan."  remarks  the 
Queen.  "Tell  M.  DTnisdal,"  said  the  King,  and  the  Queen 
fl  See  Hist.  Pari.  vii.  316;  Bertrand-Moleville,  &c. 


I79I]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  353 

puts  an  emphasis  on  it,  "  That  the  King  cannot  consent  to  be 
forced  away." — "  I  see  1 '"  said  D'Inisdal,  whisking  round,  peak- 
ing himself  into  flame  of  irritancy :  "  we  have  the  risk ;  we  are 
to  have  all  the  blame  if  it  fail,"^ — and  vanishes,  he  and  his  plot, 
as  will-o'-wisps  do.  The  Queen  sat  till  far  in  the  night,  packing 
jewels :  but  it  came  to  nothing ;  in  that  peaked  flame  of  irritancy 
the  will-o'-wisp  had  gone  out. 

Little  hope  there  is  in  all  this.  Alas,  with  whom  to  fly  ?  Our 
loyal  Gardes-du-Corps,  ever  since  the  Insurrection  of  Women, 
are  disbanded;  gone  to  their  homes;  gone,  many  of  them, 
across  the  Rhine  towards  Coblentz  and  Exiled  Princes :  brave 
Miomandre  and  brave  Tardivet,  these  faithful  Two,  have  re- 
ceived, in  nocturnal  interview  with  both  Majesties,  their  via- 
ticum of  gold  louis,  a  heartfelt  thanks  from  a  Queen's  lips, 
though  unluckily  "  his  Majesty  stood,  back  to  fire,  not  speak- 
ing ;"f  and  do  now  dine  through  the  Provinces;  recounting 
hairs-breadth  escapes,  insurrectionary  horrors.  Great  horrors, 
to  be  swallowed  yet  of  greater.  But,  on  the  whole,  what  a  fall- 
ing-off  from  the  old  splendor  of  Versailles !  Here  in  this  poor 
Tuileries  a  National  Brewer-Colonel,  sonorous  Santerre, 
parades  officially  behind  her  Majesty's  chair.  Our  high  digni- 
taries all  fled  over  the  Rhine:  nothing  now  to  be  gained  at 
Court ;  but  hopes,  for  which  life  itself  must  be  risked  !  Obscure 
busy  men  frequent  the  back  stairs  ;  with  hearsays,  wind-projects, 
unfruitful  fanfaronades.  Young  Royalists,  at  the  Theatre  de 
Vaudeville,  "  sing  couplets  ;  "  if  that  could  do  anything.  Royal- 
ists enough.  Captains  on  furlough,  burnt-out  Seigneurs,  may 
likewise  be  met  with,  "  in  the  Cafe  de  Valois,  and  at  Meot  the 
Restaurateur's."  There  they  fan  one  another  into  high  loyal 
glow ;  drink,  in  such  wine  as  can  be  procured,  confusion  to 
Sansculottism  ;  show  purchased  dirks,  of  an  improved  structure, 
made  to  order ;  and,  greatly  daring,  dine.f^  It  is  in  these  places, 
in  these  months,  that  the  epithet  Sansculotte  first  gets  applied  to 
indigent  Patriotism  ;  in  the  last  age  we  had  Gilbert  Sansculotte, 
the  indigent  Poet.^  Destitute-of-Breeches :  a  mournful  Destitu- 
tion ;  which  however,  if  Twenty  millions  share  it,  may  become 
more  efifective  than  most  Possessions ! 

Meanwhile,   amid   this   vague   dim   whirl    of   fanfaronades, 
wind-projects,   poniards   made   to   order,    there    does   disclose 

b  Campan,  ii.  105.  c  Ibid.  ii.  199-201. 

d  Dampniartin,  ii.  129.  *  Mercier,  Nouveau  Paris,  iii.  204. 

Vol.  I. — 23 


354  CARLYLE  [179^ 

itself  one  punctum  saliens  of  life  and  feasibility :  the  finger 
of  Mirabeau !  Mirabeau  and  the  Queen  of  France  have  met ; 
have  parted  with  mutual  trust !  It  is  strange ;  secret  as  the 
Mysteries;  but  it  is  indubitable.  Mirabeau  took  horse,  one 
evening;  and  rode  westward,  unattended, — to  see  Friend 
Claviere  in  that  country-house  of  his?  Before  getting  to  Cla- 
viere's,  the  much-musing  horseman  struck  aside  to  a  back 
gate  of  the  Garden  of  Saint-Cloud :  some  Duke  d'Aremberg, 
or  the  like,  was  there  to  introduce  him ;  the  Queen  was  not 
far;  on  a  "  round  knoll,  rond  point,  the  highest  of  the  Garden 
of  Saint-Cloud,"  he  beheld  the  Queen's  face ;  spake  with  her, 
alone,  under  the  void  canopy  of  Night.  What  an  interview ; 
fateful,  secret  for  us,  after  all  searching;  like  the  colloquies 
of  the  gods!^  She  called  him  "a  Mirabeau:"  elsewhere  we 
read  that  she  "  was  charmed  with  him,"  the  wild  submitted 
Titan ;  as  indeed  it  is  among  the  honorable  tokens  of  this 
high  ill-fated  heart  that  no  mind  of  any  endowment,  no  Mira- 
beau, nay  no  Barnave,  no  Dumouriez,  ever  came  face  to  face 
with  her  but,  in  spite  of  all  prepossessions,  she  was  forced 
to  recognize  it,  to  draw  nigh  to  it,  with  trust.  High  imperial 
heart ;  with  the  instinctive  attraction  towards  all  that  had  any 
height !  "  You  know  not  the  Queen,"  said  Mirabeau  once 
in  confidence ;  "  her  force  of  mind  is  prodigious ;  she  is  a 
man  for  courage."^ — And  so,  under  the  void  Night,  on  the 
crown  of  that  knoll,  she  has  spoken  with  a  Mirabeau :  he  has 
kissed  loyally  the  queenly  hand,  and  said  with  enthusiasm : 
"  Madame,  the  Monarchy  is  saved  !  " — Possible  ?  The  foreign 
Powers,  mysteriously  sounded,  gave  favorable  guarded  re- 
sponse ;^  Bouille  is  at  Metz,  and  could  find  forty-thousand  sure 
Germans.  With  a  Mirabeau  for  head,  and  a  Bouille  for  hand, 
something  verily  is  possible, — if  Fate  intervene  not. 

But  figure  under  what  thousandfold  wrappages,  and  cloaks 
of  darkness.  Royalty,  meditating  these  things,  must  involve 
itself.  There  are  men  with  "  Tickets  of  Entrance ;"  there  are 
chivalrous  consultings,  mysterious  plottings.  Consider  also 
whether,  involve  as  it  like,  plotting  Royalty  can  escape  the 
glance  of  Patriotism ;  lynx-eyes,  by  the  ten  thousand,  fixed 
on  it,  which  see  in  the  dark !  Patriotism  knows  much :  knows 
the  dirks  made  to  order,  and  can  specify  the  shops;    knows 

/Campan,  ii.  c.  17.  g  Dumont,  p.  211. 

h  Corrcspondance  Secrete  (in  Hist.  Pari.  viii.  169-73). 


I79I]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  355 

Sieur  Motier's  legions  of  mouchards ;  the  Tickets  of  Entree, 
and  men  in  black ;  and  how  plan  of  evasion  succeeds  plan, — 
or  may  be  supposed  to  succeed  it.  Then  conceive  the  couplets 
chanted  at  the  Theatre  de  Vaudeville;  or  worse,  the  whispers, 
significant  nods  of  traitors  in  mustachioes.  Conceive,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  loud  cry  of  alarm  that  came  through  the  Hun- 
dred-and-Thirty  Journals ;  the  Dionysius'-Ear  of  each  of  the 
Forty-eight  Sections,  wakeful  night  and  day. 

Patriotism  is  patient  of  much  ;  not  patient  of  all.  The  Cafe 
de  Procope  has  sent,  visibly  along  the  streets,  a  Deputation  of 
Patriots,  "  to  expostulate  with  bad  Editors,"  by  trustful  word 
of  mouth :  singular  to  see  and  hear.  The  bad  Editors  promise 
to  amend,  but  do  not.  Deputations  for  change  of  Ministry 
were  many;  Mayor  Bailly  joining  even  with  Cordelier  Danton 
in  such;  and  they  have  prevailed.  With  what  profit?  Of 
Quacks,  willing  or  constrained  to  be  Quacks,  the  race  is  ever- 
lasting :  Ministers  Duportail  and  Dutertre  will  have  to  manage 
much  as  Ministers  Latour-du-Pin  and  Cice  did.  So  welters 
the  confused  world. 

But  now,  beaten  on  forever  by  such  inextricable  contra- 
dictory influences  and  evidences,  what  is  the  indigent  French 
Patriot,  in  these  unhappy  days,  to  believe,  and  walk  by?  Un- 
certainty all ;  except  that  he  is  wretched,  indigent ;  that  a 
glorious  Revolution,  the  wonder  of  the  Universe,  has  hitherto 
brought  neither  Bread  nor  Peace;  being  marred  by  traitors, 
difficult  to  discover.  Traitors  that  dwell  in  the  dark,  invisible 
there ; — or  seen  for  moments,  in  pallid  dubious  twilight, 
stealthily  vanishing  thither !  Preternatural  Suspicion  once 
more  rules  the  minds  of  men. 

"  Nobody  here,"  writes  Carra,  of  the  Annalcs  Patriotiques, 
so  early  as  the  first  of  February,  "  can  entertain  a  doubt  of 
the  constant  obstinate  project  these  people  have  on  foot  to 
get  the  King  away ;  or  of  the  perpetual  succession  of  ma- 
noeuvres they  employ  for  that."  Nobody:  the  watchful  Mother 
of  Patriotism  deputed  two  Members  to  her  Daughter  at  Ver- 
sailles, to  examine  how  the  matter  looked  there.  Well,  and 
there?  Patriotic  Carra  continues:  "  The  Report  of  these  two 
deputies  we  all  heard  with  our  own  ears  last  Saturday.  They 
went  with  others  of  Versailles  to  inspect  the  King's  Stables, 
also  the  stables  of  the  whilom  Gardcs-du-Corps:  they  found 
there  from  seven  to  eight  hundred  horses  standing  always 


JD 


6  CARLYLE  [1791 


saddled  and  bridled,  ready  for  the  road  at  a  moment's  notice. 
The  same  deputies,  moreover,  saw  with  their  own  two  eyes  sev- 
eral Royal  Carriages,  which  men  were  even  then  busy  loading 
with  large  well-stuffed  luggage-bags,"  leather  cows,  as  we  call 
them,  "  vachcs  de  cuir;  the  Royal  Arms  on  the  panels  almost 
entirely  effaced."  Momentous  enough  !  Also  "  on  the  same  day 
the  whole  Marechaussce,  or  Cavalry  Police,  did  assemble  with 
arms,  horses  and  baggage," — and  disperse  again.  They  want 
the  King  over  the  marches,  that  so  Emperor  Leopold  and  the 
German  Princes,  whose  troops  are  ready,  may  have  a  pretext 
for  beginning:  "  this,"  adds  Carra,  "  is  the  word  of  the  riddle: 
this  is  the  reason  why  our  fugitive  Aristocrats  are  now  making 
levies  of  men  on  the  frontiers ;  expecting  that,  one  of  these 
mornings,  the  Executive  Chief  Magistrate  will  be  brought 
over  to  them,  and  the  civil  war  commence. "» 

If  indeed  the  Executive  Chief  Magistrate,  bagged,  say  in 
one  of  these  leather  cows,  were  once  brought  safe  over  to 
them !  But  the  strangest  thing  of  all  is,  that  Patriotism, 
whether  barking  at  a  venture,  or  guided  by  some  instinct  of 
preternatural  sagacity,  is  actually  barking  aright  this  time ;  at 
something,  not  at  nothing.  Bouille's  Secret  Correspondence, 
since  made  public,  testifies  as  much. 

Nay,  it  is  undeniable,  visible  to  all,  that  Mcsdmnes  the  King's 
Aunts  are  taking  steps  for  departure :  asking  passports  of 
the  Ministry,  safe-conducts  of  the  Municipality ;  which  Marat 
warns  all  men  to  beware  of.  They  will  carry  gold  with  them, 
"  these  old  Beguines;"  nay  they  will  carry  the  little  Dauphin, 
"  having  nursed  a  changeling,  for  some  time,  to  leave  in  his 
stead  " !  Besides,  they  are  some  light  su1)stance  flung  up,  to 
show  how  the  wind  sits ;  a  kind  of  proof-kite  you  fly  off  to 
ascertain  whether  the  grand  paper-kite.  Evasion  of  the  King, 
may  mount ! 

In  these  alarming  circumstances,  Patriotism  is  not  wanting 
to  itself.  Municipality  deputes  to  the  King ;  Sections  depute 
to  the  Municipality ;  a  National  Assembly  will  soon  stir. 
Meanwhile,  behold,  on  the  19th  of  February,  1791,  Mesdames, 
quitting  Bellevue  and  Versailles  with  all  privacy,  are  off!  To- 
wards Rome,  seemingly ;  or  one  knows  not  whither.  They 
are  not  without  King's  passports,  countersigned ;  and  what 
is  more  to  the  purpose,  a  serviceable  Escort.  The  Patriotic 
i  Carra's  Newspaper,  ist  Feb.  1791  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  39). 


February  19th]  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION  357 

Mayor  or  Mayorlet  of  the  Village  of  Moret  tried  to  detain 
them :  but  brisk  Louis  de  Narbonne,  of  the  Escort,  dashed  off 
at  hand-gallop ;  returned  soon  with  thirty  dragoons,  and  vic- 
toriously cut  them  out.  And  so  the  poor  ancient  women  go 
their  way ;  to  the  terror  of  France  and  Paris,  whose  nervous 
excitability  is  become  extreme.  Who  else  would  hinder  poor 
Loque  and  Graille,  now  grown  so  old,  and  fallen  into  such 
unexpected  circumstances,  when  gossip  itself  turning  only  on 
terrors  and  horrors  is  no  longer  pleasant  to  the  mind,  and  you 
cannot  get  so  much  as  an  orthodox  confessor  in  peace, — from 
going  what  way  soever  the  hope  of  any  solacement  might 
lead  them? 

They  go,  poor  ancient  dames, — whom  the  heart  were 
hard  that  did  not  pity :  they  go ;  with  palpitations,  with  un- 
melodious  suppressed  screechings ;  all  France  screeching  and 
cackling,  in  loud  «nsuppressed  terror,  behind  and  on  both 
hands  of  them :  such  mutual  suspicion  is  among  men.  At 
Arnay  le  Due,  about  halfway  to  the  frontiers,  a  Patriotic 
Municipality  and  Populace  again  takes  courage  to  stop  them : 
Louis  Narbonne  must  now  back  to  Paris,  must  consult  the 
National  Assembly.  National  Assembly  answers,  not  with- 
out an  effort,  that  Mesdames  may  go.  Whereupon  Paris  rises 
worse  than  ever,  screeching  half-distracted.  Tuileries  and 
precincts  are  filled  with  women  and  men,  while  the  National 
Assembly  debates  this  question  of  questions ;  Lafayette  is 
needed  at  night  for  dispersing  them,  and  the  streets  are  to  be 
illuminated.  Commandant  Berthier,  a  Berthier  before  whom 
are  great  things  unknown,  lies  for  the  present  under  blockade 
at  Bellevue  in  Versailles.  By  no  tactics  could  he  get  Mes- 
dames' Luggage  stirred  from  the  Courts  there ;  frantic  Ver- 
saillese  women  came  screaming  about  him ;  his  very  troops 
cut  the  wagon-traces ;  he  "  retired  to  the  interior,"  waiting 
better  times./ 

Nay  in  these  same  hours,  while  Mesdames,  hardly  cut  out 
from  Moret  by  the  sabre's  edge,  are  driving  rapidly,  to  foreign 
parts,  and  not  yet  stopped  at  Arnay,  their  august  Nephew 
poor  Monsieur,  at  Paris,  has  dived  deep  into  his  cellars  of 
the  Luxembourg  for  shelter ;  and,  according  to  Montgaillard, 
can  hardly  be  persuaded  up  again.  Screeching  multitudes  en- 
viron that  Luxembourg  of  his ;    drawn  thither  by  report  of 

i  Campan,  ii.   132. 


358  CARLYLE  [1791 

his  departure :  but  at  sight  and  sound  of  Monsieur,  they  be- 
come crowing  multitudes ;  and  escort  Madame  and  him  to 
the  Tuileries  with  vivats>  It  is  a  state  of  nervous  excitabihty 
such  as  few  nations  know. 


Chapter  V. — The  Day  of  Poniards. 

Or,  again,  what  means  this  visible  reparation  of  the  Castle 
of  Vincennes?  Other  Jails  being  all  crowded  with  prisoners, 
new  space  is  wanted  here :  that  is  the  Municipal  account.  For 
in  such  changing  of  Judicatures,  Parlements  being  abolished, 
and  New  Courts  but  just  set  up,  prisoners  have  accumulated. 
Not  to  say  that  in  these  times  of  discord  and  club-law,  offences 
and  committals  are,  at  any  rate,  more  numerous.  Which  Munic- 
ipal account,  does  it  not  sufficiently  explain  the  phenomenon? 
Surely,  to  repair  the  Castle  of  Vincennes  was  of  all  enterprises 
that  an  enlightened  Municipality  could  undertake  the  most 
innocent. 

Not  so,  however,  does  neighboring  Saint-Antoine  look  on 
it :  Saint-Antoine,  to  whom  these  peaked  turrets  and  grim 
donjons,  ail-too  near  her  own  dark  dwelling,  are  of  them- 
selves an  offence.  Was  not  Vincennes  a  kind  of  minor  Bas- 
tille? Great  Diderot  and  Philosophes  have  lain  in  durance 
here ;  great  Mirabeau,  in  disastrous  eclipse,  for  forty-two 
months.  And  now  when  the  old  Bastille  has  become  a  dancing- 
ground  (had  any  one  the  mirth  to  dance),  and  its  stones  are 
getting  built  into  the  Pont  Louis-Seize,  does  this  minor,  com- 
parative insignificance  of  a  Bastille  flank  itself  with  fresh- 
hewn  mullions,  spread  out  tyrannous  wings ;  menacing  Pa- 
triotism ?  New  space  for  prisoners :  and  what  prisoners  ?  A 
D'Orleans,  with  the  chief  Patriots  on  the  tip  of  the  Left?  It 
is  said,  there  runs  "  a  subterranean  passage "  all  the  way 
from  the  Tuileries  hither.  Who  knows?  Paris,  mined  with 
quarries  and  catacombs,  does  hang  wondrous  over  the  abyss; 
Paris  was  once  to  be  blown  up, — though  the  powder,  when 
we  went  to  look,  had  got  withdrawn.  A  Tuileries,  sold  to 
Austria  and  Coblentz,  should  have  no  subterranean  passage. 
Out  of  which  might  not  Coblentz  or  Austria  issue,  some  morn- 
ing; and,  with  cannon  of  long  range,  "  foudroyer,"  bethunder 
a  patriotic  Saint-Antoine  into  smoulder  and  ruin ! 
k  Montgaillard,  ii.  282;  Deux  Amis,  vi.  c.  1. 


February  28th]         THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  359 

So  meditates  the  benighted  soul  of  Saint-Antoine,  as  it  sees 
the  aproned  workmen,  in  early  spring,  busy  on  these  towers. 
An  official-speaking  Municipality,  a  Sieur  Motier  with  his 
legions  of  mouchards,  deserve  no  trust  at  all.  Were  Patriot 
Santerre,  indeed,  Commander !  But  the  sonorous  Brewer 
commands  only  our  own  Battalion:  of  such  secrets  he  can 
explain  nothing,  knows  nothing,  perhaps  suspects  much.  And 
so  the  work  goes  on ;  and  afflicted  benighted  Saint-Antoine 
hears  rattle  of  hammers,  sees  stones  suspended  in  air./ 

Saint-Antoine  prostrated  the  first  great  Bastille:  will  it 
falter  over  this  comparative  insignificance  of  a  Bastille? 
Friends,  what  if  we  took  pikes,  firelocks,  sledge-hammers ; 
and  helped  ourselves ! — Speedier  is  no  remedy ;  nor  so  cer- 
tain. On  the  28th  day  of  February,  Saint-Antoine  turns  out, 
as  it  has  now  often  done;  and,  apparently  with  little  super- 
fluous tumult,  moves  eastward  to  the  eye-sorrow  of  Vin- 
cennes.  With  grave  voice  of  authority,  no  need  of  bullying 
and  shouting,  Saint-Antoine  signifies  to  parties  concerned 
there,  that  its  purpose  is.  To  have  this  suspicious  Strong- 
hold razed  level  with  the  general  soil  of  the  country.  Remon- 
strance may  be  proffered,  with  zeal ;  but  it  avails  not.  The 
outer  gate  goes  up,  drawbridges  tumble ;  iron  window-stan- 
chions, smitten  out  with  sledge-hammers,  become  iron-crow- 
bars: it  rains  a  rain  of  furniture,  stone-masses,  slates:  with 
chaotic  clatter  and  rattle,  Demolition  clatters  down.  And  now 
hasty  expresses  rush  through  the  agitated  streets,  to  warn 
Lafayette,  and  the  Municipal  and  Departmental  Authorities ; 
Rumor  warns  a  National  Assembly,  a  Royal  Tuileries,  and 
all  men  who  care  to  hear  it :  That  Saint-Antoine  is  up ;  that 
Vincennes,  and  probably  the  last  remaining  Institution  of  the 
Country,  is  coming  down.w 

Quick,  then,  Let  Lafayette  roll  his  drums  and  fly  eastward ; 
for  to  all  Constitutional  Patriots  this  is  again  bad  news.  And 
you,  ye  Friends  of  Royalty,  snatch  your  poniards  of  improved 
structure,  made  to  order;  your  sword-canes,  secret  arms,  and 
tickets  of  entry ;  quick,  by  backstairs  passages,  rally  round 
the  Son  of  Sixty  Kings.  An  effervescence  probably  got  up 
by  D'Orleans  and  Company,  for  the  overthrow  of  Throne 
and  Altar:    it  is  said  her  Majesty  shall  be  put  in  prison,  put 

/  Montgaillard,  ii.  285. 

m  Deux  Amis,  vi.  11-15;  Newspapers  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  111-17). 


360  CARLYLE  [1791 

out  of  the  way;  what  then  will  his  Majesty  be?  Clay  for  the 
Sansculottic  Potter !  Or  were  it  impossible  to  fly  this  day ;  a 
brave  Noblesse  suddenly  all  rallying?  Peril  threatens,  hope 
invites:  Dukes  de  Villequier,  de  Duras,  Gentlemen  of  the 
Chamber  give  Tickets  and  admittance;  a  brave  Noblesse  is 
suddenly  all  rallying.  Now  were  the  time  to  "  fall  sword  in 
hand  on  those  gentry  there,"  could  it  be  done  with  effect. 

The  Hero  of  two  Worlds  is  on  his  white  charger:  blue 
Nationals,  horse  and  foot,  hurrying  eastward;  Santerre,  with 
the  Saint-Antoine  Battalion,  is  already  there, — apparently  in- 
disposed to  act.  Heavy-laden  Hero  of  two  Worlds,  what 
tasks  are  these!  The  jeerings,  provocative  gambollings  of 
that  Patriot  Suburb,  which  is  all  out  on  the  streets  now,  are 
hard  to  endure;  unwashed  Patriots  jeering  in  sulky  sport; 
one  unwashed  Patriot  "  seizing  the  General  by  the  boot,"  to 
unhorse  him.  Santerre,  ordered  to  fire,  makes  answer  ob- 
liquely, "  These  are  the  men  that  took  the  Bastille ;"  and  not 
a  trigger  stirs.  Neither  dare  the  Vincennes  Magistracy  give 
warrant  of  arrestment,  or  the  smallest  countenance :  wherefore 
the  General  '*  will  take  it  on  himself,"  to  arrest.  By  prompti- 
tude, by  cheerful  adroitness,  patience  and  brisk  valor  without 
limits,  the  riot  may  be  again  bloodlessly  appeased. 

Meanwhile  the  rest  of  Paris,  with  more  or  less  unconcern, 
may  mind  the  rest  of  its  business:  for  what  is  this  but  an 
effervescence,  of  which  there  are  now  so  many?  The  Na- 
tional Assembly,  in  one  of  its  stormiest  moods,  is  debating  a 
Law  against  Emigration  ;  Mirabeau  declaring  aloud,  "  I  swear 
beforehand  that  I  will  not  obey  it."  Mirabeau  is  often  at  the 
Tribune  this  day ;  with  endless  impediments  from  without ; 
with  the  old  unabated  energy  from  within.  What  can  mur- 
murs and  clamors,  from  Left  or  from  Right,  do  to  this  man ; 
like  Teneriffe  or  Atlas  unremoved  ?  With  clear  thought ;  with 
strong  bass  voice,  though  at  first  low,  uncertain,  he  claims 
audience,  sways  the  storm  of  men:  anon  the  sound  of  him 
waxes,  softens :  he  rises  into  far-sounding  melody  of  strength, 
triumphant,  which  subdues  all  hearts ;  his  rude  seamed  face, 
desolate,  fire-scathed,  becomes  fire-lit,  and  radiates :  once  again 
men  feel,  in  these  beggarly  ages,  what  is  the  potency  and 
omnipotency  of  man's  word  on  the  souls  of  men.  "  I  will 
triumph,  or  be  torn  in  fragments,"  he  was  once  heard  to  say. 
"  Silence,"  he  cries  now,  in  strong  word  of  command,  in  im- 


February  28th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  361 

perial  consciousness  of  strength,  "  Silence,  the  thirty  voices, 
Silence  aux  trente  voix!" — and  Robespierre  and  the  Thirty 
Voices  die  into  mutterings;  and  the  Law  is  once  more  as 
Mirabeau  would  have  it. 

How  different,  at  the  same  instant,  is  General  Lafayette's 
street-eloquence ;  wrangling  with  sonorous  Brewers,  with  an 
ungrammatical  Saint- Antoine !  Most  different,  again,  from 
both  is  the  Cafe-de-Valois  eloquence,  and  suppressed  fan- 
faronade, of  this  multitude  of  men  with  Tickets  of  Entry ; 
who  are  now  inundating  the  Corridors  of  the  Tuileries.  Such 
things  can  go  on  simultaneously  in  one  City,  How  much 
more  in  one  Country ;  in  one  Planet  with  its  discrepancies, 
every  Day  a  mere  crackling  infinitude  of  discrepancies, — which 
nevertheless  do  yield  some  coherent  net-product,  though  an 
infinitesimally  small  one ! 

But  be  this  as  it  may,  Lafayette  has  saved  Vincennes ;  and 
is  marching  homeward  with  some  dozen  of  arrested  demoli- 
tionists.  Royalty  is  not  yet  saved ; — nor  indeed  specially  en- 
dangered. But  to  the  King's  Constitutional  Guards,  to  these 
old  Gardes  Frangaises,  or  Centre  Grenadiers,  as  it  chanced  to 
be,  this  affluence  of  men  with  Tickets  of  Entry  is  becoming 
more  and  more  unintelligible.  Is  his  Majesty  verily  for  Metz, 
then ;  to  be  carried  off  by  these  men,  on  the  spur  of  the  in- 
stant? That  revolt  of  Saint- Antoine  got  up  by  traitor  Royal- 
ists for  a  stalking-horse?  Keep  a  sharp  outlook,  ye  Centre 
Grenadiers  on  duty  here :  good  never  came  from  the  "  men 
in  black."  Nay  they  have  cloaks,  rcdingotes;  some  of  them 
leather-breeches,  boots, — as  if  for  instant  riding!  Or  what  is 
this  that  sticks  visible  from  the  lapel  of  a  Chevalier  de  Court  ?o 
Too  like  the  handle  of  some  cutting  or  stabbing  instrument ! 
He  glides  and  goes ;  and  still  the  dudgeon  sticks  from  his  left 
lapel.  "  Hold,  Monsieur!  " — a  Centre  Grenadier  clutches  him; 
clutches  the  protrusive  dudgeon,  whisks  it  out  in  the  face  of 
the  world :  by  Heaven,  a  very  dagger ;  hunting-knife  or  what- 
soever you  will  call  it;    fit  to  drink  the  life  of  Patriotism! 

So  fared  it  with  Chevalier  de  Court,  early  in  the  day;  not 
without  noise ;  not  without  commentaries.  And  now  this  con- 
tinually increasing  multitude  at  nightfall  ?  Have  they  daggers 
too?  Alas,  with  them  too,  after  angry  parlcyings.  there  has 
begun  a  groping  and  a  rummaging;    all  men   in  black,  spite 

a  Wcbcr,  ii.  286. 


362  CARLYLE  [1791 

of  their  Tickets  of  Entry,  are  clutched  by  the  collar,  and 
groped.  Scandalous  to  think  of:  for  always,  as  the  dirk, 
sword-cane,  pistol,  or  were  it  but  tailor's  bodkin,  is  found  on 
him,  and  with  loud  scorn  drawn  forth  from  him,  he,  the  hap- 
less man  in  black,  is  flung  ail-too  rapidly  down  stairs.  Flung ; 
and  ignominiously  descends,  head  foremost;  accelerated  by 
ignominious  shovings  from  sentry  after  sentry;  nay,  as  it  is 
written,  by  smitings,  twitchings, — spurnings  a  posteriori,  not 
to  be  named.  In  this  accelerated  way  emerges,  uncertain  which 
end  uppermost,  man  after  man  in  black,  through  all  issues, 
into  the  Tuileries  Garden ;  emerges,  alas,  into  the  arms  of  an 
indignant  multitude,  now  gathered  and  gathering  there,  in  the 
hour  of  dusk,  to  see  what  is  toward,  and  whether  the  Heredi- 
tary Representative  is  carried  off  or  not.  Hapless  men  in 
black ;  at  last  convicted  of  poniards  made  to  order ;  convicted 
"  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard  " !  Within  is  as  the  burning  ship ; 
without  is  as  the  deep  sea.  Within  is  no  help;  his  Majesty, 
looking  forth,  one  moment,  from  his  interior  sanctuaries, 
coldly  bids  all  visitors  "  give  up  their  weapons ;"  and  shuts 
the  door  again.  The  weapons  given  up  form  a  heap ;  the 
convicted  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard  keep  descending  pellmell, 
with  impetuous  velocity ;  and  at  the  bottom  of  all  stair-cases 
the  mixed  multitude  receives  them,  hustles,  buffets,  chases  and 
disperses  thcm.^ 

Such  sight  meets  Lafayette,  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  as 
he  returns,  successful  with  difficulty  at  Vincennes :  Sansculotte 
Scylla  hardly  weathered,  here  is  Aristocrat  Charybdis  gurgling 
under  his  lee !  The  patient  Hero  of  two  Worlds  almost  loses 
temper.  He  accelerates,  does  not  retard,  the  flying  Chevaliers ; 
delivers,  indeed,  this  or  the  other  hunted  Loyalist  of  quality, 
but  rates  him  in  bitter  words,  such  as  the  hour  suggested ;  such 
as  no  saloon  could  pardon.  Hero  ill-bested ;  hanging,  so  to 
speak,  in  mid-air ;  hateful  to  Rich  divinities  above ;  hateful  to 
indigent  mortals  below !  Duke  de  Villequier,  Gentleman  of 
the  Chamber,  gets  such  contumelious  rating,  in  presence  of 
all  people  there,  that  he  may  see  good  first  to  exculpate  him- 
self in  the  Newspapers ;  then,  that  not  prospering,  to  retire 
over  the  Frontiers,  and  begin  plotting  at  Brussels. <^  His  Apart- 
ment will  stand  vacant ;  usefuller,  as  we  may  find,  than  when 
it  stood  occupied. 

b  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  139-48.  c  Montgaillard,  ii.  286. 


February  28th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  363 

So  fly  the  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard ;  hunted  of  Patriotic 
men,  shamefully  in  the  thickening  dusk.  A  dim  miserable 
business ;  born  of  darkness ;  dying  away  there  in  the  thicken- 
ing dusk  and  dimness.  In  the  midst  of  which,  however,  let 
the  reader  discern  clearly  one  figure  running  for  its  life : 
Crispin-Catiline  d'Espremenil, — for  the  last  time,  or  the  last 
but  one.  Is  it  not  yet  three  years  since  these  same  Centre 
Grenadiers,  Gardes  Fran^aises  then,  marched  him  towards 
the  Calypso  Isles,  in  the  gray  of  the  May  morning;  and  he 
and  they  have  got  thus  far.  Buffeted,  beaten  down,  delivered 
by  popular  Petion,  he  might  well  answer  bitterly :  "  And  I 
too,  Monsieur,  have  been  carried  on  the  People's  shoulders. "^ 
A  fact  which  popular  Petion,  if  he  like,  can  meditate. 

But  happily,  one  w^ay  and  another,  the  speedy  night  covers 
up  this  ignominious  Day  of  Poniards ;  and  the  Chevaliers 
escape,  though  maltreated,  with  torn  coat-skirts  and  heavy 
hearts,  to  their  respective  dwelling-houses.  Riot  twofold  is 
quelled ;  and  little  blood  shed,  if  it  be  not  insignificant  blood 
from  the  nose :  Vincennes  stands  undemolished,  reparable ; 
and  the  Hereditary  Representative  has  not  been  stolen,  nor 
the  Queen  smuggled  into  Prison.  A  day  long  remembered : 
commented  on  with  loud  hahas  and  deep  grumblings ;  with 
bitter  scornfulness  of  triumph,  bitter  rancor  of  defeat.  Royal- 
ism,  as  usual,  imputes  it  to  D'Orleans  and  the  Anarchists 
intent  on  insulting  Majesty:  Patriotism,  as  usual,  to  Royalists, 
and  even  Constitutionalists,  intent  on  stealing  Majesty  to  Metz : 
we,  also  as  usual,  to  Preternatural  Suspicion,  and  Phoebus 
Apollo  having  made  himself  like  the  Night. 

Thus,  however,  has  the  reader  seen,  in  an  unexpected 
arena,  on,  this  last  day  of  February  1791,  the  Three  long-con- 
tending elements  of  French  Society  dashed  forth  into  singular 
comico-tragical  collision ;  acting  and  reacting  openly  to  the 
eye.  Constitutionalism,  at  once  quelling  Sansculottic  riot  at 
Vincennes,  and  Royalist  treachery  in  the  Tuileries,  is  great, 
this  day,  and  prevails.  As  for  poor  Royalism,  tossed  to  and 
fro  in  that  manner,  its  daggers  all  left  in  a  heap,  what  can 
one  think  of  it?  Every  dog,  the  Adage  says,  has  its  day: 
has  it ;  has  had  it ;  or  will  have  it.  For  the  present,  the  day 
is  Lafayette's  and  the  Constitution's.  Nevertheless  Hunger 
and  Jacobinism,  fast  growing  fanatical,  still  work;    their  day, 

d  See  Mercier,  ii.  40,  202. 


364  CARLYLE  [1791 

were  they  once  fanatical,  will  come.  Hitherto,  in  all  tempests, 
Lafayette,  like  some  divine  Sea-ruler,  raises  his  serene  head: 
the  upper  ^olus  blasts  fly  back  to  their  caves,  like  foolish 
unbidden  winds :  the  under  sea-billows  they  had  vexed  into 
froth  allay  themselves.  But  if,  as  we  often  write,  the  sub- 
marine Titanic  Fire-powers  came  into  play,  the  Ocean-bed 
from  beneath  being  hurst?  If  they  hurled  Poseidon  Lafayette 
and  his  Constitution  out  of  Space;  and,  in  the  Titanic  melly, 
sea  were  mixed  with  sky? 


Chapter  VI. — Mirabeau. 

The  spirit  of  France  waxes  ever  more  acrid,  fever-sick :  to- 
wards the  final  outburst  of  dissolution  and  delirium.  Suspicion 
rules  all  minds :  contending  parties  cannot  now  commingle ; 
stand  separated  sheer  asunder,  eying  one  another,  in  most 
aguish  mood,  of  cold  terror  or  hot  rage,  Counter-Revolution, 
Days  of  Poniards,  Castries  Duels ;  Flight  of  Mesdames,  of 
Monsieur  and  Royalty !  Journalism  shrills  ever  louder  its  cry 
of  alarm.  The  sleepless  Dionysius-Ear  of  the  Forty-eight 
Sections,  how  feverishly  quick  has  it  grown ;  convulsing  with 
strange  pangs  the  whole  sick  Body,  as  in  such  sleeplessness 
and  sickness  the  ear  will  do ! 

Since  Royalists  get  Poniards  made  to  order,  and  a  Sieur 
Motier  is  no  better  than  he  should  be,  shall  not  Patriotism 
too,  even  of  the  indigent  sort,  have  Pikes,  secondhand  Fire- 
locks, in  readiness  for  the  worst  ?  The  anvils  ring,  during  this 
March  month,  with  hammering  of  Pikes.  A  Constitutional 
Municipality  promulgated  its  Placard,  that  no  citizen  except 
the  "  active  "  or  cash-citizen  was  entitled  to  have  arms ;  but 
there  rose,  instantly  responsive,  such  a  tempest  of  astonish- 
ment from  Club  and  Section,  that  the  Constitutional  Placard, 
almost  next  morning,  had  to  cover  itself  up,  and  die  away 
into  inanity,  in  a  second  improved  edition.a  So  the  ham- 
mering continues ;   as  all  that  it  betokens  does. 

Mark,  again,  how  the  extreme  tip  of  the  Left  is  moimting 
in  favor,  if  not  in  its  own  National  Hall,  yet  with  the  Nation, 
especially  with  Paris.  For  in  such  universal  panic  of  doubt, 
the  opinion  that  is  sure  of  itself,  as  the  meagrest  opinion  may 

oOrdonnance  du  17  Mars  1791  {Hist.  Pari.  ix.  257). 


March]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  365 

the  soonest  be,  is  the  one  to  which  all  men  will  rally.  Great 
is  Belief,  were  it  never  so  meagre ;  and  leads  captive  the 
doubting  heart.  Incorruptible  Robespierre  has  been  elected 
Public  Accuser  in  our  new  Courts  of  Judicature ;  virtuous 
Petion,  it  is  thought,  may  rise  to  be  Mayor.  Cordelier  Dan- 
ton,  called  also  by  triumphant  majorities,  sits  at  the  Depart- 
mental Council-table ;  colleague  there  of  Mirabeau.  Of  incor- 
ruptible Robespierre  it  was  long  ago  predicted  that  he  might 
go  far,  mean  meagre  mortal  though  he  was ;  for  Doubt  dwelt 
not  in  him. 

Under  which  circumstances  ought  not  Royalty  likewise  to 
cease  doubting,  and  begin  deciding  and  acting?  Royalty  has 
always  that  sure  trump-card  in  its  hand:  Flight  out  of  Paris. 
Which  sure  trump-card  Royalty,  as  we  see,  keeps  ever  and 
anon  clutching  at,  grasping ;  and  swashes  it  forth  tentatively ; 
yet  never  tables  it,  still  puts  it  back  again.  Play  it,  O  Royalty ! 
If  there  be  a  chance  left,  this  seems  it,  and  verily  the  last 
chance ;  and  now  every  hour  is  rendering  this  a  doubtfuler. 
Alas,  one  would  so  fain  both  fly  and  not  fly ;  play  one's  card 
and  have  it  to  play.  Royalty,  in  all  human  likelihood,  will 
not  play  its  trump-card  till  the  honors,  one  after  one,  be  mainly 
lost ;  and  such  trumping  of  it  prove  to  be  the  sudden  finish  of 
the  game! 

Here  accordingly  a  question  always  arises ;  of  the  prophetic 
sort ;  which  cannot  now  be  answered.  Suppose  Mirabeau,  with 
whom  Royalty  takes  deep  counsel,  as  with  a  Prime  Minister 
that  cannot  yet  legally  avow  himself  as  such,  had  got  his  ar- 
rangements completed?  Arrangements  he  has;  far-stretching 
plans  that  dawn  fitfully  on  us,  by  fragments,  in  the  confused 
darkness.  Thirty  Departments  ready  to  sign  loyal  Addresses, 
of  prescribed  tenor:  King  carried  out  of  Paris,  but  only  to 
Compiegne  and  Rouen,  hardly  to  Metz,  since,  once  for  all,  no 
Emigrant  rabble  shall  take  the  lead  in  it :  National  Assembly 
consenting,  by  dint  of  loyal  Addresses,  by  management,  by 
force  of  Bouille,  to  hear  reason,  and  follow  thither  \b  Was  it 
so,  on  these  terms,  that  Jacobinism  and  Mirabeau  were  then 
to  grapple,  in  their  Hercules-and-Typhon  duel ;  Death  inevi- 
table for  the  one  or  the  other?  The  duel  itself  is  determined 
on,  and  sure:  but  on  what  terms:  much  more,  with  what 
issue,  we  in  vain  guess.  It  is  vague  darkness  all :  unknown 
b  Sec  Pits  Adoptif,  vii.  1.  6;   Dumont,  c.  11,  12,  14. 


366  CARLYLE  [1791 

what  is  to  be;  unknown  even  what  has  already  been.  The 
giant  Mirabeau  walks  in  darkness,  as  we  said;  companionless, 
on  wild  ways :  what  his  thoughts  during  these  months  were, 
no  record  of  Biographer,  nor  vague  Fils  Adoptif,  will  now  ever 
disclose. 

To  us,  endeavoring  to  cast  his  horoscope,  it  of  course  re- 
mains doubly  vague.  There  is  one  Herculean  Man ;  in  inter- 
necine duel  with  him,  there  is  Monster  after  Monster.  Emigrant 
Noblesse  return,  sword  on  thigh,  vaunting  of  their  Loyalty 
never  sullied ;  descending  from  the  air,  like  Harpy-swarms 
with  ferocity,  with  obscene  greed.  Earthward  there  is  the 
Typhon  of  Anarchy,  Political,  Religious ;  sprawling  hundred- 
headed,  say  with  Twenty-five  million  heads;  wide  as  the  area 
of  France ;  fierce  as  Frenzy ;  strong  in  very  Hunger.  With 
these  shall  the  Serpent-queller  do  battle  continually,  and  ex- 
pect no  rest. 

As  for  the  King,  he  as  usual  will  go  wavering  chameleon- 
like ;  changing  color  and  purpose  with  the  color  of  his  en- 
vironment ; — good  for  no  Kingly  use.  On  one  royal  person, 
on  the  Queen  only,  can  Mirabeau  perhaps  place  dependence. 
It  is  possible,  the  greatness  of  this  man,  not  unskilled  too  in 
blandishments,  courtiership,  and  graceful  adroitness,  might, 
with  most  legitimate  sorcery,  fascinate  the  volatile  Queen,  and 
fix  her  to  him.  She  has  courage  for  all  noble  daring;  an  eye 
and  a  heart :  the  soul  of  Theresa's  Daughter.  "  Faut-il  done, 
Is  it  fated  then,"  she  passionately  writes  to  her  Brother,  "  that 
I  with  the  blood  I  am  come  of,  with  the  sentiments  I  have, 
must  live  and  die  among  such  mortals  ?  "c  Alas,  poor  Princess, 
Yes.  "  She  is  the  only  man"  as  Mirabeau  observes,  "  whom 
his  Majesty  has  about  him."  Of  one  other  man  Mirabeau  is 
still  surer :  of  himself.  There  lie  his  resources ;  sufficient  or 
insufficient. 

Dim  and  great  to  the  eye  of  Prophecy  looks  that  future. 
A  perpetual  life-and-death  battle ;  confusion  from  above  and 
from  below ; — mere  confused  darkness  for  us ;  with  here  and 
there  some  streak  of  faint  lurid  light.  We  see  a  King  perhaps 
laid  aside ;  not  tonsured, — tonsuring  is  out  of  fashion  now, — 
but  say,  sent  away  anywhither,  with  handsome  annual  allow- 
ance and  stock  of  smith-tools.  We  see  a  Queen  and  Dauphin, 
Regent  and  Minor;    a  Queen  "  mounted  on  horseback,"  in 

c  Fils  Adoptif,  ubi  supra. 


March]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  367 

the  din  of  battles,  with  Moriamur  pro  rege  nostra !    "  Such  a 
day,"  Mirabeau  writes,  "  may  come." 

Din  of  battles,  wars  more  than  civil,  confusion  from  above 
and  from  below :  in  such  environment  the  eye  of  Prophecy 
sees  Comte  de  Mirabeau,  like  some  Cardinal  de  Retz,  storm- 
fully  maintain  himself ;  with  head  all-devising,  heart  all-daring, 
if  not  victorious,  yet  unvanquished,  while  life  is  left  him.  The 
specialties  and  issues  of  it,  no  eye  of  Prophecy  can  guess  at: 
it  is  clouds,  we  repeat,  and  tempestuous  night ;  and  in  the 
middle  of  it,  now  visible,  far-darting,  now  laboring  in  eclipse, 
is  Mirabeau  indomitably  struggling  to  be  Cloud-Compeller ! — 
One  can  say  that,  had  Mirabeau  lived,  the  History  of  France 
and  of  the  World  had  been  different.  Further  that  the  man 
would  have  needed,  as  few  men  ever  did,  the  whole  compass 
of  that  same  "  Art  of  Daring,  Art  d'Oser,"  which  he  so 
prized ;  and  likewise  that  he,  above  all  men  then  living,  would 
have  practised  and  manifested  it.  Finally,  that  some  substan- 
tiality, and  no  empty  simulacrum  of  a  formula,  would  have 
been  the  result  realized  by  him :  a  result  you  could  have  loved, 
a  result  you  could  have  hated ;  by  no  likelihood,  a  result  you 
could  only  have  rejected  with  closed  lips,  and  swept  into  quick 
forgetfulness  forever.     Had  Mirabeau  lived  one  other  yearl 


Chapter  VII. — Death  of  Mirabeau. 

~  But  Mirabeau  could  not  live  another  year,  any  more  than 
he  could  live  another  thousand  years.  Men's  years  are  num- 
bered, and  the  tale  of  Mirabeau's  was  now  complete.  Im- 
portant or  unimportant ;  to  be  mentioned  in  World-History 
for  some  centuries,  or  not  to  be  mentioned  there  beyond  a 
day  or  two, — it  matters  not  to  peremptory  Fate.  From  amid 
the  press  of  ruddy  busy  Life,  the  Pale  Messenger  beckons 
silently:  wide-spreading  interests,  projects,  salvation  of  French 
Monarchies,  what  thing  soever  man  has  on  hand,  he  must 
suddenly  quit  it  all,  and  go.  Wert  thou  saving  French  Mon- 
archies; wert  thou  blacking  shoes  on  the  Pont  Neuf!  The  ^ 
most  important  of  men  cannot  stay ;  did  the  World's  His- 
tory depend  on  an  hour,  that  hour  is  not  to  be  given.  Whereby,  ^ 
indeed,  it  comes  that  these  same  zvould-Jia-c'C-beens  are  mostly 
a  vanity;    and  the  World's  History  could  never  in  the  least 


368  CARLYLE  [1791 

be   what  it  would,   or  might,  or  should,  by  any  manner  of 
potentiality,  but  simply  and  altogether  what  it  is. 

The  fierce  wear  and  tear  of  such  an  existence  has  w^asted 
out  the  giant  oaken  strength  of  Mirabeau,  A  fret  and  fever 
that  keeps  heart  and  brain  on  fire:  excess  of  effort,  of  excite- 
ment ;  excess  of  all  kinds :  labor  incessant,  almost  beyond 
credibility !  "  If  I  had  not  lived  with  him,"  says  Dumont, 
"  I  never  should  have  known  what  a  man  can  make  of  one 
.  day;  what  things  may  be  placed  within  the  interval  of  twelve 
hours.  A  day  for  this  man  was  more  than  a  week  or  a  month 
is  for  others:  the  mass  of  things  he  guided  on  together  was 
prodigious ;  from  the  scheming  to  the  executing  not  a  mo- 
ment lost." — "  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  said  his  Secretary  to  him 
once,  "what  you  require  is  impossible." — "Impossible!" — 
answered  he,  starting  from  his  chair,  "Ne  me  ditcs  jamais  ce 
bete  de  mot.  Never  name  to  me  that  blockhead  of  a  word."o 
And  then  the  social  repasts ;  the  dinner  which  he  gives  as 
Commandant  of  National  Guards,  "  which  cost  five  hun- 
dred pounds ;"  alas,  and  "  the  Syrens  of  the  Opera ;"  and  all 
the  ginger  that  is  hot  in  the  mouth : — down  what  a  course 
is  this  man  hurled !  Cannot  Mirabeau  stop ;  cannot  he  fly, 
and  save  himself  alive?  No!  there  is  a  Nessus-Shirt  on  this 
Hercules;  he  must  storm  and  burn  there,  wdthout  rest,  till 
he  be  consumed.  Human  strength,  never  so  Herculean,  has 
its  measure.  Herald  shadows  flit  pale  across  the  fire-brain 
of  Mirabeau ;  heralds  of  the  pale  repose.  While  he  tosses 
and  storms,  straining  every  nerve,  in  that  sea  of  ambition  and 
confusion,  there  comes,  sombre  and  still,  a  monition  that  for 
him  the  issue  of  it  will  be  swift  death. 

In  January  last,  you  might  see  him  as  President  of  the 
Assembly ;    "  his  neck  wrapt  in  linen  cloths,  at  the  evening 
session:"  there  was  sick  heat  of  the  blood,  alternate  darken- 
ing and  flashing  in  the  eyesight ;    he  had  to  apply  leeches, 
f  after  the  morning  labor,  and  preside  bandaged.     "  At  parting 
\  he  embraced  me,"   says  Dumont,   "  with  an   emotion   I   had 
'  never  seen  in  him :    *  I  am  dying,  my  friend ;    dying  as  by 
slow  fire ;    we  shall  perhaps  not  meet  again.     When   I  am 
gone,  they  will  know  what  the  value  of  me  was.    The  miseries 
I  have  held  back  will  burst  from  all  sides  on  France.'  "&   Sick- 
ness gives  louder  warning;    but  cannot  be  listened  to.     On 
a  Dumont,  p.  311.  b  Dumont,  p.  267. 


April  2d]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  369 

the  27th  day  of  March,  proceeding  towards  the  Assembly,  he 
had  to  seek  rest  and  help  in  Friend  de  Lamarck's,  by  the 
road;  and  lay  there,  for  an  hour,  half- fainted,  stretched  on 
a  sofa.  To  the  Assembly  nevertheless  he  went,  as  if  in  spite 
of  Destiny  itself;  spoke,  loud  and  eager,  five  several  times; 
then  quitted  the  Tribune — forever.  He  steps  out,  utterly  ex- 
hausted, into  the  Tuileries  Gardens ;  many  people  press 
round  him,  as  usual,  with  applications,  memorials;  he  says 
to  the  Friend  who  was  with  him :    "  Take  me  out  of  this !  " 

And  so,  on  the  last  day  of  March  1791,  endless  anxious 
multitudes  beset  the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin ;  incessantly 
inquiring:  within  doors  there,  in  that  House  numbered,  in 
our  time,  42,  the  overw-earied  giant  has  fallen  down,  to  die.c 
Crowds  of  all  parties  and  kinds ;  of  all  ranks  from  the  King 
to  the  meanest  man !  The  King  sends  publicly  twice  a-day 
to  inquire ;  privately  besides :  from  the  world  at  large  there 
is  no  end  of  inquiring.  "  A  written  bulletin  is  handed  out 
every  three  hours,"  is  copied  and  circulated ;  in  the  end,  it 
is  printed.  The  People  spontaneously  keep  silence;  no  car- 
riage shall  enter  with  its  noise:  there  is  crowding  pressure; 
but  the  Sister  of  Mirabeau  is  reverently  recognized,  and  has 
free  way  made  for  her.  The  People  stand  mute,  heart-stricken ; 
to  all  it  seems  as  if  a  great  calamity  were  nigh :  as  if  the 
last  man  of  France,  who  could  have  swayed  these  coming 
troubles,  lay  there  at  hand-grips  with  the  unearthly  Power. 

The  silence  of  a  whole  People,  the  wakeful  toil  of  Cabanis, 
Friend  and  Physician,  skills  not :  on  Saturday  the  second  day 
of  April,  Mirabeau  feels  that  the  last  of  the  Days  has  risen 
for  him ;  that  on  this  day  he  has  to  depart  and  be  no  more. 
His  death  is  Titanic,  as  his  life  has  been !  Lit  up,  for  the  -^ 
last  time,  in  the  glare  of  coming  dissolution,  the  mind  of  the 
man  is  all  glowing  and  burning;  utters  itself  in  sayings, 
such  as  men  long  remember.  He  longs  to  live,  yet  acquiesces 
in  death,  argues  not  with  the  inexorable.  His  speech  is  wild 
and  wondrous:  unearthly  Phantasms  dancing  now  their 
torch-dance  round  his  soul :  the  soul  itself  looking  out,  fire- 
radiant,  motionless,  girt  together  for  that  great  hour!  At 
times  comes  a  beam  of  light  from  him  on  the  world  he  is 
quitting.  "  I  carry  in  my  heart  the  death-dirge  of  the  French 
Monarchy ;    the  dead  remains  of  it  will  now  be  the  spoil  of 

c  Fils  Adoptif,  viii.  420-79. 
Vol.  I. — 24 


370  CARLYLE  [1791 

the  factious."  Or  again,  when  he  heard  the  cannon  fire,  what 
is  characteristic  too :  "  Have  we  the  Achilles'  Funeral  already  ?" 
So  likewise,  while  some  friend  is  supporting  him :  "  Yes,  sup- 
port that  head ;  would  I  could  bequeath  it  thee !  "  For  the 
man  dies  as  he  has  lived ;  self-conscious,  conscious  of  a  world 
looking  on.  He  gazes  forth  on  the  young  Spring,  which  for 
him  will  never  be  Summer.  The  Sun  has  risen ;  he  says, 
"  Si  ce  11' est  pas  la  Dieu,  c'est  du  moins  son  cousin  germain."d 
— Death  has  mastered  the  outworks ;  power  of  speech  is  gone ; 
the  citadel  of  the  heart  still  holding  out:  the  moribund  giant, 
passionately,  by  sign,  demands  paper  and  pen ;  writes  his 
passionate  demand  for  opium,  to  end  these  agonies.  The 
sorrowful  Doctor  shakes  his  head :  Dormir,  "  To  sleep,"  writes 
the  other  passionately  pointing  at  it !  So  dies  a  gigantic 
Heathen  and  Titan ;  stumbling  blindly,  undismayed,  down 
to  his  rest.  At  half-past  eight  in  the  morning.  Doctor  Petit, 
standing  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  says,  "  //  ne  souffre  plus." 
His  suffering  and  his  working  are  now  ended. 

Even  so,  ye  silent  Patriot  multitudes,  all  ye  men  of 
France ;  this  man  is  rapt  away  from  you.  He  has  fallen 
suddenly,  without  bending  till  he  broke ;  as  a  tower  falls, 
smitten  by  sudden  lightning.  His  word  ye  shall  hear  no 
more,  his  guidance  follow  no  more. — The  multitudes  depart, 
heartstruck ;  spread  the  sad  tidings.  How  touching  is  the 
loyalty  of  men  to  their  Sovereign  Man!  All  theatres,  public 
amusements  close ;  no  joyful  meeting  can  be  held  in  these 
nights,  joy  is  not  for  them:  the  People  break  in  upon  pri- 
vate dancing-parties,  and  sullenly  command  that  they  cease. 
Of  such  dancing-parties  apparently  but  two  came  to  light ; 
and  these  also  have  gone  out.  The  gloom  is  universal ;  never 
in  this  City  was  such  sorrow  for  one  death ;  never  since  that 
old  night  when  Louis  XH.  departed,  "  and  the  Cricurs  des 
Corps  went  sounding  their  bells,  and  crying  along  the  streets : 
Le  bon  rot  Louis,  pere  du  penple,  est  mort,  The  good  King 
Louis,  Father  of  the  People,  is  dead !  "e  King  Mirabeau  is 
now  the  lost  King;  and  one  may  say  with  little  exaggeration, 
all  the  People  mourns  for  him. 

For  three  days  there  is  low  wide  moan ;    weeping  in  the 

d  Fits  Adoptif,  viii.  450;  Journal  de  la  maladie  et  de  la  mort  de  Mira- 
beau, par  P.  J.  G.  Cahanis  (Paris,  1803). 
e  Renault,  Abregc  Chronologique,  p.  429. 


April  4th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  371 

National  Assembly  itself.  The  streets  are  all  mournful ;  orators 
mounted  on  the  homes,  with  large  silent  audience,  preaching 
the  funeral  sermon  of  the  dead.  Let  no  coachman  whip  fast, 
distractively  with  his  rolling  wheels,  or  almost  at  all,  through 
these  groups !  His  traces  may  be  cut ;  himself  and  his  fare, 
as  incurable  Aristocrats,  hurled  sulkily  into  the  kennels.  The 
bourne-stone  orators  speak  as  it  is  given  them ;  the  Sansculottic 
People,  with  its  rude  soul,  listens  eager, — as  men  will  to  any 
Sermon,  or  Scrmo,  when  it  is  a  spoken  Word  meaning  a 
Thing,  and  not  a  Babblement  meaning  No-thing.  In  the" 
Restaurateur's  of  the  Palais-Royal,  the  waiter  remarks,  "  Fine 
weather,  Monsieur:" — "Yes,  my  friend,"  answers  the  ancient 
Man  of  Letters,  "very  fine;  but  Mirabeau  is  dead."  Hoarse - 
rhythmic  threnodies  come  also  from  the  throats  of  ballad- 
singers  ;  are  sold  on  gray-white  paper  at  a  sou  each./"  But 
of  Portraits,  engraved,  painted,  hewn  and  written ;  of  Eulogies, 
Reminiscences,  Biographies,  nay  Vaudevilles,  Dramas  and 
Melodramas,  in  all  Provinces  of  France,  there  will,  through 
these  coming  months,  be  the  due  immeasurable  crop ;  thick 
as  the  leaves  of  Spring.  Nor,  that  a  tincture  of  burlesque 
might  be  in  it,  is  Gobel's  Episcopal  Mandcmcnt  wanting; 
goose  Gobel,  who  has  just  been  made  Constitutional  Bishop 
of  Paris.  A  Mandement  wherein  ^a  ira  alternates  strangely 
with  Nomine  Domini,  and  you  are,  with  a  grave  countenance, 
invited  to  "  rejoice  at  possessing  in  the  midst  of  you  a  body 
of  Prelates  created  by  Mirabeau,  zealous  followers  of  his  doc- 
trine, faithful  imitators  of  his  virtues. "g  So  speaks,  and 
cackles  manifold,  the  Sorrow  of  France ;  wailing  articulately, 
inarticulately,  as  it  can,  that  a  Sovereign  Man  is  snatched 
away.  In  the  National  Assembly,  when  difficult  questions  are 
astir,  all  eyes  will  "  turn  mechanically  to  the  place  where 
Mirabeau  sat," — and  Mirabeau  is  absent  now. 

On  the  third  evening  of  the  lamentation,  the  fourth  of 
April,  there  is  solemn  Public  Funeral ;  such  as  deceased  mortal 
seldom  had.  Procession  of  a  league  in  length ;  of  mourners 
reckoned  loosely  at  a  hundred  thousand.  All  roofs  are 
thronged  with  on-lookers,  all  windows,  lamp-irons,  branches 
of  trees.     *'  Sadness  is  painted  on  every  countenance ;    many 

f  Fils  Adoptif,  viii.  1.  10;    Newspapers  and  Excerpts  (in  Hist.  Pari 
ix.  366-402). 

g  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  405. 


372  CARLYLE  I1791 

persons  weep."  There  is  double  hedge  of  National  Guards; 
there  is  National  Assembly  in  a  body;  Jacobin  Society,  and 
Societies;  King's  Ministers,  Municipals,  and  all  Notabilities, 
Patriot  or  Aristocrat.  Bouille  is  noticeable  there,  "  with  his 
hat  on ;"  say,  hat  drawn  over  his  brow,  hiding  many  thoughts ! 
Slow-wending,  in  religious  silence,  the  Procession  of  a  league 
in  length,  under  the  level  sun-rays,  for  it  is  five  o'clock,  moves 
and  marches  :  with  its  sable  plumes ;  itself  in  a  religious  silence ; 
but,  by  fits  with  the  muffled  roll  of  drums,  by  fits  with  some 
long-drawn  wail  of  music,  and  strange  new  clangor  of  trom- 
bones, and  metallic  dirge-voice ;  amid  the  infinite  hum  of  men. 
In  the  Church  of  Saint-Eustache,  there  is  funeral  oration  by 
Cerutti ;  and  discharge  of  fire-arms,  which  "  brings  down 
pieces  of  the  plaster."  Thence,  forward  again  to  the  Church 
of  Sainte-Genevieve ;  which  has  been  consecrated,  by  supreme 
decree,  on  the  spur  of  this  time,  into  a  Pantheon  for  the 
Great  Men  of  the  Fatherland,  Aitx  Grands  Honunes  la  Patric 
reconnaissante.  Hardly  at  midnight  is  the  business  done  ;  and 
Mirabeau  left  in  his  dark  dwelling:  first  tenant  of  that  Father- 
land's Pantheon. 

Tenant,  alas,  who  inhabits  but  at  will,  and  shall  be  cast 
out.  For,  in  these  days  of  convulsion  and  disjection,  not 
even  the  dust  of  the  dead  is  permitted  to  rest.  Voltaire's 
bones  are,  by  and  by,  to  be  carried  from  their  stolen  grave 
in  the  Abbey  of  Scellieres,  to  an  eager  stealing  grave,  in  Paris 
his  birth-city :  all  mortals  processioning  and  perorating  there  ; 
cars  drawn  by  eight  white  horses,  goadsters  in  classical  cos- 
tume, with  fillets  and  wheat-ears  enough ; — though  the  weather 
is  of  the  wettest./^  Evangelist  Jean  Jacques  too,  as  is  most 
proper,  must  be  dug  up  from  Ermenonville,  and  processioned, 
with  pomp,  with  sensibility,  to  the  Pantheon  of  the  Father- 
land.i  He  and  others:  while  again  Mirabeau,  we  say,  is 
cast  forth  from  it,  happily  incapable  of  being  replaced;  and 
rests  now,  irrecognizable,  reburied  hastily  at  dead  of  night 
"  in  the  central  part  of  the  Churchyard  Sainte-Catherine,  in 
the  Suburb  Saint-Marceau,"  to  be  disturbed  no  farther. 

So  blazes  out,  far-seen,  a  Man's  Life,  and  becomes  ashes 
and  a  caput  mortumn,  in  this  World-Pyre,  which  we  name 
French  Revolution:    not  the  first  that  consumed  itself  there; 

h  Moniteur,  du  13  Juillet  1791. 

iMoniteur,  du  18  Septembre  1794.    See  also  du  30  Aout,  &c.  1791. 


April  4th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  373 

nor,  by  thousands  and  many  millions,  the  last !  A  man  who 
"  had  swallowed  all  formulas ;  "  who,  in  these  strange  times  and 
circumstances,  felt  called  to  live  Titanically,  and  also  to  die  so. . 
As  he,  for  his  part,  had  swallowed  all  formulas,  what  Formula 
is  there,  never  so  comprehensive,  that  will  express  truly  the  plus 
and  the  tniniis  of  him,  give  us  the  accurate  net-result  of  him? 
There  is  hitherto  none  such.  Moralities  not  a  few  must  shriek 
condemnatory  over  this  Mirabeau ;  the  Morality  by  which  he 
could  be  judged  has  not  yet  got  uttered  in  the  speech  of  men. 
We  will  say  this  of  him  again :  That  he  is  a  Reality  and  no 
Simulacrum ;  a  living  Son  of  Nature  our  general  Mother ;  not 
a  hollow  Artifice,  and  mechanism  of  Conventionalities,  son  of 
nothing,  brother  to  nothing.  In  which  little  word,  let  the 
earnest  man,  walking  sorrowful  in  a  world  mostly  of  "  Stuffed 
Clothes-suits,"  that  chatter  and  grin  meaningless  on  him,  quite 
ghastly  to  the  earnest  soul, — think  what  significance  there  is ! 

Of  men  who,  in  such  sense,  are  alive,  and  see  with  eyes  the 
number  is  now  not  great :  it  may  be  well,  if  in  this  huge  French 
Revolution  itself,  with  its  all-developing  fury,  we  find  some 
Three.  Mortals  driven  rabid  we  find ;  sputtering  the  acridest 
logic ;  baring  their  breast  to  the  battle-hail,  their  neck  to  the 
guillotine : — of  whom  it  is  so  painful  to  say  that  they  too  are 
still,  in  good  part,  manufactured  Formalities,  not  facts  but 
Hearsays ! 

Honor  to  the  strong  man,  in  these  ages,  who  has  shaken  him- 
self loose  of  shams,  and  is  something.  For  in  the  way  of  being 
worthy,  the  first  condition  surely  is  that  one  be.  Let  Cant  cease, 
at  all  risks  and  at  all  costs :  till  Cant  cease,  nothing  else  can 
begin.  Of  human  Criminals,  in  these  centuries,  writes  the 
Moralist,  I  find  but  one  unforgivable :  the  Quack.  "  Hateful 
to  God,"  as  divine  Dante  sings,  "  and  to  the  Enemies  of  God, 

"A  Dio  spiacente  ed  a'  nemici  siii!  " 

But  whoever  will,  with  sympathy,  which  is  the  first  essential 
towards  insight,  look  at  this  questionable  Mirabeau,  may  find 
that  there  lay  verily  in  him,  as  the  basis  of  all,  a  Sincerity,  a 
great  free  Earnestness ;  nay  call  it  Honesty,  for  the  man  did 
before  all  things  see,  with  that  clear  flashing  vision,  into  what 
•was,  into  what  existed  as  fact ;  and  did,  with  his  wild  heart,  fol- 
low that  and  no  other.  Whereby  on  what  ways  soever  he  travels 
and  struggles,  often  enough  falling,  he  is  still  a  brother  man. 


k 


374 


CARLYLE  [1 791 


Hate  him  not ;  thou  canst  not  hate  him  !    Shining  through  such 
soil  and  tarnish,  and  now  victorious  effulgent,  and  oftenest 
struggling  eclipsed,  the  light  of  genius  itself  is  in  this  man; 
which  was  never  yet  base  and  hateful ;  but  at  worst  was  lament- 
able, lovable  with  pity.    They  say  that  he  was  ambitious,  that 
he  wanted  to  be  Minister.     It  is  most  true.     And  was  he  not 
simply  the  one  man  in  France  who  could  have  done  any  good 
as  Minister  ?     Not  vanity  alone,  not  pride  alone  ;  far  from  that ! 
Wild  burstings  of  affection  were  in  this  great  heart ;  of  fierce 
lightning,  and  soft  dew  of  pity.   So  sunk  bemired  in  wretchedest 
defacements,  it  may  be  said  of  him,  like  the  Magdalen  of  old, 
that  he  loved  much  :  his  Father,  the  harshest  of  old  crabbed  men, 
he  loved  with  warmth,  with  veneration. 
r     Be  it  that  his  falls  and  follies  are  manifold, — as  himself  often 
lamented  even  with  tears.i   Alas,  is  not  the  Life  of  every  such 
man  already  a  poetic  Tragedy ;  made  up  "  of  Fate  and  of  one's 
own  Deservings,"  of  Schicksal  nnd  eigene  Schuld;  full  of  the 
!   elements  of  Pity  and  Fear?    This  brother  man,  if  not  Epic  for 
\J_ '        us,  is  Tragic ;  if  not  great,  is  large ;  large  in  his  qualities,  world- 
large  in  his  destinies.     Whom  other  men,  recognizing  him  as 
such,  may,  through  long  times,  remember,  and  draw  nigh  to 
I    examine  and  consider:   these,  in  their  several  dialects,  will  say 
]    of  him  and  sing  of  him, — till  the  right  thing  be  said  ;  and  so  the 
■    Formula  that  can  judge  him  be  no  longer  an  undiscovered  one. 
Here  then  the  wild  Gabriel  Honore  drops  from  the  tissue  of 
our  History;  not  without  a  tragic  farewell.     He  is  gone:  the 
flower  of  the  wild  Riquetti  or  Arrighetti  kindred ;  which  seems 
as  if  in  him,  with  one  last  effort,  it  had  done  its  best,  and  then 
expired,  or  sunk  down  to  the  undistinguished  level.     Crabbed 
old  Marquis  Mirabeau,  the  Friend  of  Men,  sleeps  sound.    The 
Bailli  Mirabeau,  worthy  Uncle,  will  soon  die  forlorn,  alone. 
Barrel-Mirabeau,  already  gone  across  the  Rhine,  his  Regiment 
of  Emigrants  will  drive  nigh  desperate.     "  Barrel-Mirabeau," 
says  a  biographer  of  his,  "  went  indignantly  across  the  Rhine, 
and  drilled  Emigrant  Regiments.     But  as  he  sat  one  morning 
in  his  tent,  sour  of  stomach  doubtless  and  of  heart,  meditating 
in  Tartarean  humor  on  the  turn  things  took,  a  certain  Captain  or 
Subaltern  demanded  admittance  on  business.     Such  Captain  is 
refused ;  he  again  demands,  with  refusal ;  and  then  again ;  till 
Colonel  Viscount  Barrel-Mirabeau,  blazing  up  into  a  mere  burn- 

j  Dumont,  p.  287. 


April  4th]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  375 

ing  brandy-barrel,  clutches  his  sword,  and  tumbles  out  on  this 
canaille  of  an  intruder, — alas,  on  the  canaille  of  an  intruder's 
sword-point,  who  had  drawn  with  swift  dexterity  ;  and  dies,  and 
the  Newspapers  name  it  apoplexy  and  alarming  accident."  So 
die  the  Mirabeaus. 

New  Mirabeaus  one  hears  not  of :  the  wild  kindred,  as  we  said, 
is  gone  out  with  this  its  greatest.  As  families  and  kindreds 
sometimes  do ;  producing,  after  long  ages  of  unnoted  notability, 
some  living  quintessence  of  all  the  qualities  they  had,  to  flame 
forth  as  a  man  world-noted ;  after  whom  they  rest  as  if  ex- 
hausted ;  the  sceptre  passing  to  others.  The  chosen  Last  of  the 
Mirabeaus  is  gone ;  the  chosen  man  of  France  is  gone.  It  was 
he  who  shook  old  France  from  its  basis ;  and,  as  if  with  his  single 
hand,  has  held  it  toppling  there,  still  unfallen.  What  things  de- 
pended on  that  one  man !  He  is  as  a  ship  suddenly  shivered  on 
sunk  rocks :  much  swims  on  the  waste  waters,  far  from  help. 


BOOK   FOURTH. 

VARENNES. 

Chapter  I. — Easter  at  Saint-Cloud. 

THE  French  Monarchy  may  now  therefore  be  considered 
as,  in  all  human  probability,  lost;  as  struggling  hence- 
forth in  blindness  as  well  as  weakness,  the  last  light 
of  reasonable  guidance  having  gone  out.  What  remains  of  re- 
sources their  poor  Majesties  will  waste  still  further,  in  uncertain 
loitering  and  wavering.  Mirabeau  himself  had  to  complain  that 
they  only  gave  him  half  confidence,  and  always  had  some  plan 
within  his  plan.  Had  they  fled  frankly  with  him  to  Rouen  or 
anywhither,  long  ago !  They  may  fly  now  with  chance  im- 
measurably lessened ;  which  will  go  on  lessening  towards  abso- 
lute zero.  Decide,  O  Queen ;  poor  Louis  can  decide  nothing : 
execute  this  Flight-project,  or  at  least  abandon  it.  Correspond- 
ence with  Bouille  there  has  been  enough  ;  what  profits  consulting 
and  hypothesis,  while  all  around  is  in  fierce  activity  of  practice  ? 
The  Rustic  sits  waiting  till  the  river  run  dry :  alas,  with  you  it  is 
not  a  common  river,  but  a  Nile  Inundation ;  snows  melting  in 
the  unseen  mountains ;  till  all,  and  you  where  you  sit,  be  sub- 
merged. 

Many  things  invite  to  flight.  The  voice  of  Journals  invites ; 
Royalist  Journals  proudly  hinting  it  as  a  threat.  Patriot  Journals 
rabidly  denouncing  it  as  a  terror.  Mother  Society,  waxing  more 
and  more  emphatic,  invites ; — so  emphatic  that,  as  was  prophe- 
sied, Lafayette  and  your  limited  Patriots  have  ere  long  to  branch 
ofif  from  her,  and  from  themselves  into  Feuillans ;  with  infinite 
public  controversy;  the  victory  in  which,  doubtful  though  it 
look,  will  remain  with  the  Mwlimited  Mother.  Moreover,  ever 
since  the  Day  of  Poniards,  we  have  seen  unlimited  Patriotism 
openly  equipping  itself  with  arms.  Citizens  denied  "activity," 
which  is  facetiously  made  to  signify  a  certain  weight  of  purse, 
cannot  buy  blue  uniforms,  and  be  Guardsmen;  but  man  is 

376 


April]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  377 

greater  than  blue  cloth ;  man  can  fight,  if  need  be,  in  multiform 
cloth,  or  even  almost  without  cloth, — as  Sansculotte.  So  pikes 
continue  to  be  hammered,  whether  those  Dirks  of  improved 
structure  with  barbs  be  "  meant  for  the  West-India  market,"  or 
not  meant.  Men  beat,  the  wrong  way,  their  plough-shares 
into  swords.  Is  there  not  what  we  may  call  an  "  Austrian 
Committee,"  Coniite  Autrichien,  sitting  daily  and  nightly  in  the 
Tuileries?  Patriotism,  by  vision  and  suspicion,  knows  it  too 
well !  If  the  King  fly,  will  there  not  be  Aristocrat- Austrian  in- 
vasion ;  butchery ;  replacement  of  Feudalism ;  wars  more  than 
civil  ?    The  hearts  of  men  are  saddened  and  maddened. 

Dissident  Priests  likewise  give  trouble  enough.  Expelled 
from  their  Parish  Churches,  where  Constitutional  Priests,  elect- 
ed by  the  Public,  have  replaced  them,  these  unhappy  persons 
resort  to  Convents  of  Nuns,  or  other  such  receptacles  ;  and  there, 
on  Sabbath,  collecting  assemblages  of  Anti-Constitutional  in- 
dividuals, who  have  grown  devout  all  on  a  sudden,a  they 
worship  or  pretend  to  worship  in  their  strait-laced  contu- 
macious manner ;  to  the  scandal  of  Patriotism.  Dissident 
Priests,  passing  along  with  their  sacred  wafer  for  the  dying, 
seem  wishful  to  be  massacred  in  the  streets;  wherein  Patriot- 
ism will  not  gratify  them.  Slighter  palm  of  martyrdom,  how- 
ever, shall  not  be  denied :  martyrdom  not  of  massacre,  yet 
of  fustigation.  At  the  refractory  places  of  worship,  Patriot 
men  appear;  Patriot  women  with  strong  hazel  wands,  which 
they  apply.  Shut  thy  eyes,  O  Reader;  see  not  this  misery, 
peculiar  to  these  later  times, — of  martyrdom  without  sin- 
cerity, with  only  cant  and  contumacy!  A  dead  Catholic 
Church  is  not  allowed  to  lie  dead ;  no  it  is  galvanized  into 
the  detestablest  death-life ;  whereat  Humanity,  we  say,  shuts 
its  eyes.  For  the  Patriot  women  take  their  hazel  wands,  and 
fustigate,  amid  laughter  of  bystanders,  with  alacrity :  broad 
bottom  of  Priests ;  alas,  Nuns  too,  reversed  and  cotillons  re- 
trousses!  The  National  Guard  does  what  it  can:  Municipality 
"  invokes  the  Prinicples  of  Toleration ;"  grants  Dissident  wor- 
shippers the  Church  of  the  Thcatins:  promising  protection.  But 
it  is  to  no  purpose :  at  the  door  of  that  Thcatins  Church  appears 
a  Placard,  and  suspended  atop,  like  Plebeian  Consular  fasces — 
a  bundle  of  Rods !  The  Principles  of  Toleration  must  do  the 
best  they  may:   but  no  Dissident  man  shall  worship  contuma- 

a  Toulongeon,  i.  262. 


378  CARLYLE  [1791 

ciously;  there  is  a  Plebiscitum  to  that  effect;  which,  though 
unspoken,  is  like  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians.  Dissident 
contumacious  Priests  ought  not  to  be  harbored,  even  in  private, 
by  any  man:  the  Club  of  the  Cordeliers  openly  denounces 
Majesty  himself  as  doing  it.^ 

Many  things  invite  to  flight :  but  probably  this  thing  above  all 
others,  that  it  has  become  impossible!     On  the  15th  of  April, 
notice  is  given  that  his  Majesty,  who  has  suffered  much  from 
catarrh  lately,  will  enjoy  the  Spring  weather,  for  a  few  days,  at 
Saint-Cloud.     Out  at  Saint-Cloud?     Wishing  to  celebrate  hia 
Easter,  his  Paqucs  or  Pasch,  there ;  with  refractory  Anti-Con- 
stitutional Dissidents? — Wishing  rather  to  make  off  for  Com- 
piegne,  and  thence  to  the  Frontiers?   As  were,  in  good  sooth, 
perhaps  feasible,  or  would  once  have  been ;  nothing  but  some 
two  chasseurs  attending  you ;  chasseurs  easily  corrupted  !    It  is 
a  pleasant  possibility,  execute  it  or  not.     Men  say  there  are 
thirty  thousand  Chevaliers  of  the  Poniard  lurking  in  the  woods 
there :  lurking  in  the  woods,  and  thirty  thousand, — for  the  hu- 
man Imagination  is  not  fettered.     But  now,  how  easily  might 
these,  dashing  out  on  Lafayette,  snatch  off  the  Hereditary  Rep- 
resentative; and  roll  away  with  him,  after  the  manner  of  a 
whirl-blast,  whither  they  listed ! — Enough,  it  were  well  the  King 
did  not  go.    Lafayette  is  forewarned  and  forearmed:  but,  in- 
deed, is  the  risk  his  only;    or  his  and  all  France's? 

Monday  the  eighteenth  of  April  is  come ;  the  Easter  Journey 
to  Saint-Cloud  shall  take  effect.  National  Guard  has  got  its 
orders ;  a  First  Division,  as  Advanced  Guard,  has  even  marched, 
and  probably  arrived.  His  Majesty's  Maison-houche,  they  say, 
is  all  busy  stewing  and  frying  at  Saint-Cloud ;  the  King's  dinner 
not  far  from  ready  there.  About  one  o'clock,  the  Royal  Car- 
riage, with  its  eight  royal  blacks,  shoots  stately  into  the  Place  du 
Carrousel ;  draws  up  to  receive  its  royal  burden.  But  hark ! 
from  the  neighboring  Church  of  Saint-Roch,  the  tocsin  begins 
ding-dong-ing.  Is  the  King  stolen,  then ;  is  he  going;  gone? 
Multitudes  of  persons  crowd  the  Carrousel :  the  Royal  Carriage 
still  stands  there, — and,  by  Heaven's  strength,  shall  stand ! 

Lafayette  comes  up,  with  aides-de-camp  and  oratory ;  pervad- 
ing the  groups :  "  Taisea-vous,"  answer  the  groups ;  "  the  King 
shall  not  go."     Monsieur  appears,  at  an  upper  window:  ten 
thousand  voices  bray  and  shriek,  "  Nous  ne  voulons  pas  que  le 
b  Newspapers  of  April  and  June  1791  (in  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  449;  x.  217). 


April-June]  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION  379 

Roi  parte."  Their  Majesties  have  mounted.  Crack  go  the 
whips ;  but  twenty  Patriot  arms  have  seized  each  of  the  eight 
bridles :  there  is  rearing,  rocking,  vociferation ;  not  the  smallest 
headway.  In  vain  does  Lafayette  fret,  indignant ;  and  perorate 
and  strive :  Patriots  in  the  passion  of  terror  bellow  round  the 
Royal  Carriage ;  it  is  one  bellowing  sea  of  Patriot  terror  run 
frantic.  Will  Royalty  fly  off  towards  Austria ;  like  a  lit  rocket, 
towards  endless  Conflagration  of  Civil  War?  Stop  it,  ye 
Patriots,  in  the  name  of  Heaven !  Rude  voices  passionately 
apostrophize  Royalty  itself.  Usher  Campan,  and  other  the  like 
official  persons,  pressing  forward  with  help  or  advice,  are 
clutched  by  the  sashes,  and  hurled  and  whirled,  in  a  confused 
perilous  manner;  so  that  her  Majesty  has  to  plead  passionately 
from  the  carriage-window. 

Order  cannot  be  heard,  cannot  be  followed  ;  National  Guards 
know  not  how  to  act.  Centre  Grenadiers,  of  the  Observatoire 
Battalion,  are  there ;  not  on  duty ;  alas,  in  quasi-mutiny ;  speak- 
ing rude  disobedient  words ;  threatening  the  mounted  Guards 
with  sharp  shot  if  they  hurt  the  People.  Lafayette  mounts  and 
dismounts ;  runs  haranguing,  panting ;  on  the  verge  of  despair. 
For  an  hour  and  three-quarters ;  "  seven  quarters  of  an  hour," 
by  the  Tuileries  Clock !  Desperate  Lafayette  will  open  a  pass- 
age, were  it  by  the  cannon's  mouth,  if  his  Majesty  will  order. 
Their  Majesties,  counselled  to  it  by  Royalist  friends,  by  Patriot 
foes,  dismount ;  and  retire  in,  with  heavy  indignant  heart ;  giving 
up  the  enterprise.  Maison-honche  may  eat  that  cooked  dinner 
themselves :  his  Majesty  shall  not  see  Saint-Cloud  this  day, — 
nor  any  day.c 

The  pathetic  fable  of  imprisonment  in  one's  own  Palace  has 
become  a  sad  fact,  then?  Majesty  complains  to  Assembly; 
Municipality  deliberates,  proposes  to  petition  or  address ;  Sec- 
tions respond  with  sullen  brevity  of  negation.  Lafayette  flings 
down  his  Commission ;  appears  in  civic  pepper-and-salt  frock ; 
and  cannot  be  flattered  back  again ;  not  in  less  than  three  days ; 
and  by  imheard-of  entreaty;  National  Guards  kneeling  to  him, 
and  declaring  that  it  is  not  sycophancy,  that  they  are  free  men 
kneeling  here  to  the  Statue  of  Liberty.  For  the  rest,  those 
Centre  Grenadiers  of  the  Observatoire  are  disbanded, — yet  in- 
deed are  re-enlisted,  all  but  fourteen,  under  a  new  name,  and 
with  new  quarters.  The  King  must  keep  his  Easter  in  Paris ; 
c  Deux  Amis,  vi.  c.  1.;  Hist.  Pari.  ix.  407-14. 


380  CARLYLE  [1 79 1 

meditating  much  on  this  singular  posture  of  things  ;  but  as  good 
as  determined  now  to  fly  from  it,  desire  being  whetted  by 
difficulty. 


Chapter  II. — Easter  at  Paris. 

For  above  a  year,  ever  since  March  1790,  it  would  seem,  there 
has  hovered  a  project  of  Flight  before  the  royal  mind ;  and  ever 
and  anon  has  been  condensing  itself  into  something  like  a 
purpose ;  but  this  or  the  other  difficulty  always  vaporized  it 
again.  It  seems  so  full  of  risks,  perhaps  of  civil  war  itself ; 
above  all,  it  cannot  be  done  without  effort.  Somnolent  laziness 
will  not  serve :  to  fly,  if  not  in  a  leather  vache,  one  must  verily 
stir  oneself.  Better  to  adopt  that  Constitution  of  theirs ;  execute 
it  so  as  to  show  all  men  that  it  is  zwexecutable  ?  Better  or  not 
so  good :  surely  it  is  easier.  To  all  difficulties  you  need  only 
say.  There  is  a  lion  in  the  path,  behold  your  Constitution  will 
not  act !  For  a  somnolent  person  it  requires  no  effort  to  coun- 
terfeit death, — as  Dame  de  Stael  and  Friends  of  Liberty  can  see 
the  King's  Government  long  doing,  faisant  la  mart. 

Nay  now,  when  desire  whetted  by  difficulty  has  brought  the 
matter  to  a  head,  and  the  royal  mind  no  longer  halts  between 
two,  what  can  come  of  it  ?  Grant  that  poor  Louis  were  safe  with 
Bouille,  what,  on  the  whole,  could  he  look  for  there?  Ex- 
asperated Tickets  of  Entry  answer :  Much,  all.  But  cold  Reason 
answers :  Little,  almost  nothing.  Is  not  loyalty  a  law  of  Nature  ? 
ask  the  Tickets  of  Entry.  Is  not  love  of  your  King,  and  even 
death  for  him,  the  glory  of  all  Frenchmen, — except  these  few 
Democrats?  Let  Democrat  Constitution-builders  see  what  they 
will  do  without  their  Keystone  ;  and  France  rend  its  hair,  having 
lost  the  Hereditary  Representative  ! 

Thus  will  King  Louis  fly ;  one  sees  not  reasonably  towards 
what.  As  a  maltreated  Boy,  shall  we  say,  who,  having  a  Step- 
mother, rushes  sulky  into  the  wide  world ;  and  will  wring  the 
paternal  heart? — Poor  Louis  escapes  from  known  unsupport- 
able  evils,  to  an  unknown  mixture  of  good  and  evil,  colored  by 
Hope.  He  goes,  as  Rabelais  did  when  dying,  to  seek  a  great 
May-be :  je  vais  chercher  un  grand  Peut-ctre!  As  not  only  the 
sulky  Boy  but  the  wise  grown  Man  is  obliged  to  do,  so  often,  in 
emergencies. 

For  the  rest,  there  is  still  no  lack  of  stimulants,  and  step- 


May  4th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  381 

dame  maltreatments,  to  keep  one's  resolution  at  the  due  pitch. 
Factious  disturbances  cease  not :  as  indeed  how  can  they,  unless 
authoritatively  conjured,  in  a  Revolt  which  is  by  nature  bottom- 
less? If  the  ceasing  of  faction  be  the  price  of  the  King's 
somnolence,  he  may  awake  when  he  will  and  take  wing. 

Remark,  in  any  case,  what  somersets  and  contortions  a  dead 
Catholicism  is  making, — skilfully  galvanized :  hideous,  and  even 
piteous,  to  behold !  Jurant  and  Dissident,  with  their  shaved 
crowns,  argue  frothing  everywhere  ;  or  are  ceasing  to  argue,  and 
stripping  for  battle.  In  Paris  was  scourging  while  need  con- 
tinued :  contrariwise,  in  the  Morbihan  of  Brittany,  without 
scourging,  armed  Peasants  are  up,  roused  by  pulpit-drum,  they 
know  not  why.  General  Dumouriez,  who  has  got  missioned 
thitherward,  finds  all  in  sour  heat  of  darkness ;  finds  also  that 
explanation  and  conciliation  will  still  do  much.* 

But  again,  consider  this :  that  his  Holiness,  Pius  Sixth,  has 
seen  good  to  excommunicate  Bishop  Talleyrand !  Surely,  we 
will  say  then,  considering  it,  there  is  no  living  or  dead  Church  in 
the  Earth  that  has  not  the  indubitablest  right  to  excommunicate 
Talleyrand.  Pope  Pius  has  right  and  might,  in  his  way.  But 
truly  so  likewise  has  Father  Adam,  ci-devant  Marquis  Saint- 
Huruge,  in  his  way.  Behold,  therefore,  on  the  Fourth  of  May, 
in  the  Palais  Royal,  a  mixed  loud-sounding  multitude ;  in  the 
middle  of  whom,  Father  Adam,  bull-voiced  Saint-Huruge,  in 
white  hat,  towers  visible  and  audible.  With  him,  it  is  said, 
walks  Journalist  Gorsas,  walk  many  others  of  the  washed  sort ; 
for  no  authority  will  interfere.  Pius  Sixth,  with  his  plush  and 
tiara,  and  power  of  the  Keys,  they  bear  aloft :  of  natural  size, — 
made  of  lath  and  combustible  gum.  Royou,  the  King's  Friend, 
is  borne  too  in  effigy ;  with  a  pile  of  Newspaper  King's-Friends, 
condemned  Numbers  of  the  Ami-dn-Roi;  fit  fuel  of  the  sacrifice. 
Speeches  are  spoken ;  a  judgment  is  held,  a  doom  proclaimed, 
audible  in  bull-voice,  towards  the  four  winds.  And  thus,  amid 
great  shouting,  the  holocaust  is  consummated,  under  the  sum- 
mer sky ;  and  our  lath-and-gum  Holiness,  with  the  attendant 
victims,  mounts  up  in  flame,  and  sinks  down  in  ashes ;  a  decom- 
posed Pope  :  and  right  or  might,  among  all  the  parties,  has  better 
or  worse  accomplished  itself,  as  it  could. o  But.  on  the  whole, 
reckoning  from  Martin  Luther  in  the  Market-place  of  Witten- 

*Deux  Amis,  v.  410-21 ;    Dumouriez,  ii.  c.  5. 
a  Hist.  Pari.  x.  99-102. 


382  CARLYLE  [1 791 

berg  to  Marquis  Saint-Huruge  in  this  Palais  Royal  of  Paris, 
what  a  journey  have  we  gone ;  into  what  strange  territories  has 
it  carried  us !  No  Authority  can  now  interfere.  Nay  Religion 
herself,  mourning  for  such  things,  may  after  all  ask,  What  have 
/  to  do  with  them  ? 

In  such  extraordinary  manner  does  dead  Catholicism  somerset 
and  caper,  skilfully  galvanized.  For,  does  the  reader  inquire 
into  the  subject-matter  of  controversy  in  this  case;  what  the 
difference  between  Orthodoxy  or  My-doxy  and  Heterodoxy  or 
Thy-doxy  might  here  be  ?  My-doxy  is,  that  an  august  National 
Assembly  can  equalize  the  extent  of  Bishoprics ;  that  an  equal- 
ized Bishop,  his  Creed  and  Formularies  being  left  quite  as  they 
were,  can  swear  Fidelity  to  King,  Law  and  Nation,  and  so  be- 
come a  Constitutional  Bishop.  Thy-doxy,  if  thou  be  Dissident, 
is  that  he  cannot ;  but  that  he  must  become  an  accursed  thing. 
Human  ill-nature  needs  but  some  Homoiousian  iota,  or  even 
the  pretense  of  one ;  and  will  flow  copiously  through  the  eye  of  a 
needle:    thus  always  must  mortals  go  jargoning  and  fuming, 

And,  like  the  ancient  Stoics  in  their  porches. 
With  fierce  dispute  maintain  their  churches. 

This  AutO'da-fe  of  Saint-Huruge's  was  on  the  Fourth  of  May 
1791,    Royalty  sees  it ;  but  says  nothing. 


Chapter  III. — Count  Fersen. 

Royalty,  in  fact,  should,  by  this  time,  be  far  on  with  its  prepa- 
rations. Unhappily  much  preparation  is  needful.  Could  a 
Hereditary  Representative  be  carried  in  leather  vachc,  how  easy 
were  it !    But  it  is  not  so. 

New  Clothes  are  needed ;  as  usual,  in  all  Epic  transactions, 
were  it  in  the  grimmest  iron  ages  ;  consider  "  Queen  Chrimhilde, 
with  her  sixty  sempstresses,"  in  that  iron  Nihelimgcn  Song! 
No  Queen  can  stir  without  new  clothes.  Therefore,  now.  Dame 
Campan  whisks  assiduous  to  this  mantua-maker  and  to  that: 
and  there  is  clipping  of  frocks  and  gowns,  upper  clothes  and 
under,  great  and  small ;  such  a  clipping  and  sewing  as — might 
have  been  dispensed  with.  Moreover,  her  Majesty  cannot  go  a 
step  anywhither  without  her  Necessaire;  dear  Necessaire,  of 
inlaid  ivory  and  rosewood ;  cunningly   devised ;   which  holds 


May.June]  THE   FRENCH    REVOLUTION  383 

perfumes,  toilette-implements,  infinite  small  qucenlike  furni- 
tures :  necessary  to  terrestrial  life.  Not  without  a  cost  of  some 
five  hundred  louis,  of  much  precious  time,  and  difficult  hood- 
winking which  does  not  blind,  can  this  same  Necessary  of  life  be 
forwarded  by  the  Flanders  Carriers, — never  to  get  to  hand.^ 
All  which,  you  would  say,  augurs  ill  for  the  prospering  of  the 
enterprise.  But  the  whims  of  women  and  queens  must  be 
humored. 

Bouille,  on  his  side,  is  making  a  fortified  Camp  at  Montmedi; 
gathering  Royal-Allemand,  and  all  manner  of  other  German  and 
true  French  Troops  thither,  "to  watch  the  Austrians."  His' 
Majesty  will  not  cross  the  frontiers,  unless  on  compulsion. 
Neither  shall  the  Emigrants  be  much  employed,  hateful  as  they 
are  to  all  people.^  Nor  shall  old  war-god  Broglie  have  any  hand 
in  the  business ;  but  solely  our  brave  Bouille ;  to  whom,  on  the 
day  of  meeting,  a  Marshal's  Baton  shall  be  delivered,  by  a 
rescued  King,  amid  the  shouting  of  all  the  troops.  In  the  mean 
while,  Paris  being  so  suspicious,  were  it  not  perhaps  good  to 
write  your  Foreign  Ambassadors  an  ostensible  Constitutional 
Letter ;  desiring  all  Kings  and  men  to  take  heed  that  King  Louis 
loves  the  Constitution,  that  he  has  voluntarily  sworn,  and  does 
again  swear,  to  maintain  the  same,  and  will  reckon  those  his 
enemies  who  affect  to  say  otherwise?  Such  a  Constitutional 
Circular  is  dispatched  by  Couriers,  is  communicated  confi- 
dentially to  the  Assembly,  and  printed  in  all  Newspapers ;  with 
the  finest  effect.^  Simulation  and  dissimulation  mingle  exten- 
sively in  human  affairs. 

We  observe,  however,  that  Count  Fersen  is  often  using  his 
Ticket  of  Entry ;  which  surely  he  has  clear  right  to  do.  A  gal- 
lant Soldier  and  Swede,  devoted  to  this  fair  Queen ; — as  indeed 
the  Highest  Swede  now  is.  Has  not  King  Gustav,  famed  fiery 
Chevalier  du  Nord,  sworn  himself,  by  the  old  laws  of  chivalry, 
her  Knight?  He  will  descend  on  fire-wings,  of  Swedish  mus- 
ketry, and  deliver  her  from  these  foul  dragons, — if,  alas,  the 
assassin's  pistol  intervene  not ! 

But,  in  fact,  Count  Fersen  does  seem  a  likely  young  soldier, 
of  alert  decisive  ways :  he  circulates  widely,  seen,  unseen ;  and 
has  business  on  hand.  Also  Colonel  the  Duke  de  Choiseul, 
nephew  of  Choiseul  the  great,  of  Choiseul  the  now  deceased ; 

b  Campan,  ii.  c.  18.  c  Bntiille.  Mcmoircs,  ii.  c.  10. 

d  Moniteiir,  Seance  du  2Z  Avril  I7pi. 


384  CARLYLE  [1791 

he  and  Engineer  Goguelat  are  passing  and  repassing  between 
Metz  and  the  Tuileries :  and  Letters  go  in  cipher, — one  of 
them,  a  most  important  one,  hard  to  J^cipher ;  Fersen  having 
ciphered  it  in  haste.^  As  for  Duke  de  Villequier,  he  is  gone 
ever  since  the  Day  of  Poniards;  but  his  Apartment  is  useful 
for  her  Majesty. 

On  the  other  side,  poor  Commandant  Gouvion,  watching  at 
the  Tuileries,  second  in  National  command,  sees  several  things 
hard  to  interpret.  It  is  the  same  Gouvion  who  sat,  long  months 
ago,  at  the  Townhall,  gazing  helpless  into  that  Insurrection  of 
Women ;  motionless,  as  the  brave  stabled  steed  when  conflagra- 
tion rises,  till  Usher  Maillard  snatched  his  drum.  Sincerer 
Patriot  there  is  not ;  but  many  a  shiftier.  He,  if  Dame  Campan 
gossip  credibly,  is  paying  some  similitude  of  love-court  to  a 
certain  false  Chambermaid  of  the  Palace,  who  betrays  much  to 
him:  the  Nccessaire,  the  clothes,  the  packing  of  jewels,/' — could 
he  understand  it  when  betrayed.  Helpless  Gouvion  gazes  with 
sincere  glassy  eyes  into  it;  stirs  up  his  sentries  to  vigilance; 
walks  restless  to  and  fro ;  and  hopes  the  best. 

But,  on  the  whole,  one  finds  that,  in  the  second  week  of  June, 
Colonel  de  Choiseul  is  privately  in  Paris ;  having  come  "  to  see 
his  children."  Also  that  Fersen  has  got  a  stupendous  new  Coach 
built,  of  the  kind  named  Berline;  done  by  the  first  artists;  ac- 
cording to  a  model :  they  bring  it  home  to  him,  in  ChoiseuFs 
presence;  the  two  friends  take  a  proof-drive  in  it,  along  the 
streets ;  in  meditative  mood  ;  then  send  it  up  to  "  Madame  Sulli- 
van's, in  the  Rue  de  Clichy,"  far  North,  to  wait  there  till  wanted. 
Apparently  a  certain  Russian  Baroness  de  Korff,  with  Waiting- 
woman,  Valet,  and  two  Children,  will  travel  homewards  with 
some  state :  in  whom  these  young  military  gentlemen  take  in- 
terest ?  A  Passport  has  been  procured  for  her ;  and  much  as- 
sistance shown,  with  Coachbuilders  and  suchlike ; — so  helpful- 
polite  are  young  military  men.  Fersen  has  likewise  purchased 
a  Chaise  fit  for  two,  at  least  for  two  waiting-maids  ;  further,  cer- 
tain necessary  horses:  one  would  say,  he  is  himself  quitting 
France,  not  without  outlay?  We  observe  finally  that  their 
Majesties,  Heaven  willing,  will  assist  at  Corpus-Chnsti  Day, 
this  blessed  Summer  Solstice,  in  Assumption  Church,  here  at 
Paris,  to  the  joy  of  all  the  world.   For  which  same  day,  more- 

e  Choiseul,  Relation  du  Depart  de  Louis  XVI  (Paris,  1822),  p.  39. 
/  Campan,  ii.   141. 


June  2oth-2ist]         THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  385 

over,  brave  Bouille,  at  Metz,  as  we  find,  has  invited  a  party  of 
friends  to  dinner ;  but  indeed  is  gone  from  home,  in  the  interim, 
over  to  Montmedi. 

These  are  of  the  Phenomena,  or  visual  Appearances,  of  this 
wide- working  terrestrial  world :  which  truly  is  all  phenomenal, 
what  they  call  spectral ;  and  never  rests  at  any  moment ;  one 
never  at  any  moment  can  know  why. 

On  Monday  night,  the  Twentieth  of  June  1791,  about  eleven 
o'clock,  there  is  many  a  hackney-coach,  and  glass-coach  (car- 
rosse  de  remise),  still  rumbling,  or  at  rest,  on  the  streets  of  Paris. 
But  of  all  glass-coaches,  we  recommend  this  to  thee,  O  Reader, 
which  stands  drawn  up  in  the  Rue  de  TEchelle,  hard  by  the  Car- 
rousel and  outgate  of  the  Tuileries ;  in  the  Rue  de  I'Echelle  that 
then  was ;  "  opposite  Ronsin  the  saddler's  door,"  as  if  waiting 
for  a  fare  there !  Not  long  does  it  wait :  a  hooded  Dame,  with 
two  hooded  Children  has  issued  from  Villequier's  door,  where 
no  sentry  walks,  into  the  Tuileries  Court-of-Princes ;  into  the 
Carrousel ;  into  the  Rue  de  I'Echelle ;  where  the  Glass-coachman 
readily  admits  them ;  and  again  waits.  Not  long ;  another  Dame, 
likewise  hooded  or  shrouded,  leaning  on  a  servant,  issues  in  the 
same  manner ;  bids  the  servant  good-night ;  and  is,  in  the  same 
manner,  by  the  Glass-coachman,  cheerfully  admitted.  Whither 
go  so  many  Dames?  'Tis  his  Majesty's  Couchce,  Majesty  just 
gone  to  bed,  and  all  the  Palace-world  is  retiring  home.  But  the 
Glass-coachman  still  waits ;  his  fare  seemingly  incomplete. 

By  and  by,  we  note  a  thickset  Individual,  in  round  hat  and 
peruke,  arm-and-arm  with  some  servant,  seemingly  of  the  Run- 
ner or  Courier  sort ;  he  also  issues  through  Villequier's  door ; 
starts  a  shoebuckle  as  he  passes  one  of  the  sentries,  stoops  down 
to  clasp  it  again ;  is  however,  by  the  Glass-coachman,  still  more 
cheerfully  admitted.  And  fiow,  is  his  fare  complete?  Not  yet; 
the  Glass-coachman  still  waits. — Alas !  and  the  false  Chamber- 
maid has  warned  Gouvion  that  she  thinks  the  Royal  Family  will 
fly  this  very  night;  and  Gouvion,  distrusting  his  own  glazed 
eyes,  has  sent  express  for  Lafayette ;  and  Lafayette's  Carriage, 
flaring  with  lights,  rolls  this  moment  through  the  inner  Arch  of 
the  Carrousel, — where  a  Lady  shaded  in  broad  gypsy-hat,  and 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  servant,  also  of  the  Runner  or  Courier 
sort,  stands  aside  to  let  it  pass,  and  has  even  the  whim  to  touch 
a  spoke  of  it  with  her  badine, — light  little  magic  rod  which  she 
calls  badine,  such  as  the  Beautiful  then  wore.  The  flare  of  La- 
VoL.  I.— 25 


386  CARLYLE  [1791 

fayette's  Carriage  rolls  past :  all  is  found  quiet  in  the  Court-of- 
Princes ;  sentries  at  their  post ;  Majesties'  Apartments  closed  in 
smooth  rest.  Your  false  Chambermaid  must  have  been  mis- 
taken ?  Watch  thou,  Gouvion,  with  Argus'  vigilance ;  for,  of  a 
truth,  treachery  is  within  these  walls. 

But  where  is  the  Lady  that  stood  aside  in  gypsy-hat,  and 
touched  the  wheel-spoke  with  her  badinef  O  Reader,  that  Lady 
that  touched  the  wheel-spoke  was  the  Queen  of  France !  She 
has  issued  safe  through  that  inner  Arch,  into  the  Carrousel  it- 
self;  but  not  into  the  Rue  de  TEchelle.  Flurried  by  the  rattle 
and  rencounter,  she  took  the  right  hand  not  the  left ;  neither  she 
nor  her  Courier  knows  Paris ;  he  indeed  is  no  Courier,  but  a  loyal 
stupid  ci-devant  Bodyguard  disguised  as  one.  They  are  off, 
quite  wrong,  over  the  Pont  Royal  and  River ;  roaming  disconso- 
late in  the  Rue  du  Bac ;  far  from  the  Glass-coachman,  who  still 
waits.  Waits,  with  flutter  of  heart;  with  thoughts — which  he 
must  button  close  up,  under  his  jarvie-surtout ! 

Midnight  clangs  from  all  the  City-steeples ;  one  precious  hour 
has  been  spent  so;  most  mortals  are  asleep.  The  Glass-coach- 
man waits ;  and  in  what  mood !  A  brother  jarvie  drives  up,  en- 
ters into  conversation;  is  answered  cheerfully  in  jarvie-dialect: 
the  brothers  of  the  whip  exchange  a  pinch  of  snuff  ;g  decline 
drinking  together ;  and  part  with  good-night.  Be  the  Heavens 
blest !  here  at  length  is  the  Queen-lady,  in  gypsy-hat ;  safe  after 
perils ;  who  has  had  to  inquire  her  way.  She  too  is  admitted ; 
her  Courier  jumps  aloft,  as  the  other,  who  is  also  a  disguised 
Bodyguard,  has  done :  and  now,  O  Glass-coachman  of  a  thou- 
sand,— Count  Fersen,  for  the  Reader  sees  it  is  thou, — drive ! 

Dust  shall  not  stick  to  the  hoofs  of  Fersen :  crack !  crack !  the 
Glass-coach  rattles,  and  every  soul  breathes  lighter.  But  is 
Fersen  on  the  right  road?  North-eastward,  to  the  Barrier  of 
Saint-Martin  and  Metz  Highway,  thither  were  we  bound :  and 
lo,  he  drives  right  Northward !  The  royal  Individual,  in  round 
hat  and  peruke,  sits  astonished ;  but  right  or  wrong,  there  is 
no  remedy.  Crack,  crack,  we  go  incessant,  through  the  slumber- 
ing City.  Seldom,  since  Paris  rose  out  of  mud,  or  the  Long- 
haired Kings  went  in  Bullock-carts,  was  there  such  a  drive. 
Mortals  on  each  hand  of  you,  close  by,  stretched  out  horizontal, 
dormant ;  and  we  alive  and  quaking !  Crack,  crack,  through  the 
Rue  de  Grammont ;  across  the  Boulevard ;  up  the  Rue  de  la 
g  Weber,  ii.  340-2 ;  Choiseul,  pp.  44-56. 


June  2oth-2ist]        THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  3S7 

Chaussee  d'Antin, — these  windows,  all  silent,  of  Number  42, 
were  Mirabeau's.  Towards  the  Barrier  not  of  Saint-Martin,  but 
of  Clichy  on  the  utmost  North !  Patience,  ye  royal  Individuals ; 
Fersen  understands  what  he  is  about.  Passing  up  the  Rue  de 
Clichy,  he  alights  for  one  moment  at  Madame  Sullivan's :  "Did 
Count  Fersen's  Coachman  get  the  Baroness  de  Korff's  new  Ber- 
line  ?  " — "  Gone  with  it  an  hour-and-half  ago,"  grumbles  re- 
sponsive the  drowsy  Porter. — "  C'est  hien."  Yes,  it  is  well ; — 
though  had  not  such  hour-and-half  been  lost  it  were  still  better. 
Forth  therefore,  O  Fersen,  fast,  by  the  Barrier  de  Clichy ;  then 
Eastward  along  the  Outer  Boulevard,  what  horses  and  whip- 
cord can  do ! 

Thus  Fersen  drives,  through  the  ambrosial  night.  Sleeping 
Paris  is  now  all  on  the  right-hand  of  him ;  silent  except  for  some 
snoring  hum :  and  now  he  is  Eastward  as  far  as  the  Barrier  de 
Saint-Martin  ;  looking  earnestly  for  Baroness  de  Korff's  Berline. 
This  Heaven's  Berline  he  at  length  does  descry,  drawn  up  with 
its  six  horses,  his  own  German  Coachman  waiting  on  the  box. 
Right,  thou  good  German :  now  haste,  whither  thou  knowest ! — 
And  as  for  us  of  the  Glass-coach,  haste  too,  O  haste ;  much  time 
is  already  lost !  The  august  Glass-coach  fare,  six  Insides,  has- 
tily packs  itself  into  the  new  Berline ;  two  Bodyguard  Couriers 
behind.  The  Glass-coach  itself  is  turned  adrift,  its  head  towards 
the  City ;  to  wander  whither  it  lists, — and  be  found  next  morn- 
ing tumbled  in  a  ditch.  But  Fersen  is  on  the  new  box,  with  its 
brave  new  hammer-cloths ;  flourishing  his  whip ;  he  bolts  for- 
ward towards  Bondy.  There  a  third  and  final  Bodyguard 
Courier  of  ours  ought  surely  to  be,  with  post-horses  ready- 
ordered.  There  likewise  ought  that  purchased  Chaise,  with  the 
two  Waiting-maids  and  their  bandboxes,  to  be ;  whom  also  her 
Majesty  could  not  travel  without.  Swift,  thou  deft  Fersen,  and 
may  the  Heavens  turn  it  well ! 

Once  more,  by  Heaven's  blessing,  it  is  all  well.  Here  is  the 
sleeping  Hamlet  of  Bondy ;  Chaise  with  Waiting-women ;  horses 
all  ready,  and  postillions  with  their  churn-boots,  impatient  in  the 
dewy  dawn.  Brief  harnessing  done,  the  postillions  with  their 
churn-boots  vault  into  the  saddles  ;  brandish  circularly  their  little 
noisy  whips.  Fersen,  under  his  jarvie-surtout,  bends  in  lowly 
silent  reverence  of  adieu ;  roj^al  hands  wave  speechless  inex- 
pressible response;  Baroness  de  Korff's  Berline,  with  the 
Royalty  of  France,  bounds  off:  forever,  as  it  proved.    Deft  Fer- 


388  CARLYLE  [1791 

sen  dashes  obliquely  Northward,  through  the  country,  towards 
Bougret;  gains  Bougret,  finds  his  German  Coachman  and 
chariot  waiting  there ;  cracks  off,  and  drives  undiscovered  into 
unknown  space.  A  deft  active  man,  we  say  ;  what  he  undertook 
to  do  is  nimbly  and  successfully  done. 

And  so  the  Royalty  of  France  is  actually  fled  ?  This  precious 
night,  the  shortest  of  the  year,  it  flies,  and  drives !  Baroness  de 
Korff  is,  at  bottom,  Dame  de  Tourzel,  Governess  of  the  Royal 
Children :  she  who  came  hooded  with  the  two  hooded  little  ones ; 
little  Dauphin;  little  Madame  Royale,  known  long  afterwards 
as  Duchesse  d'Angouleme.  Baroness  de  Korfif's  Waiting-maid 
is  the  Queen  in  gypsy-hat.  The  royal  Individual  in  round  hat 
and  peruke,  he  is  Valet  for  the  time  being.  The  other  hooded 
Dame,  styled  Travelling-companion,  is  kind  Sister  Elizabeth; 
she  had  sworn,  long  since,  when  the  Insurrection  of  Women 
was,  that  only  death  should  part  her  and  them.  And  so  they 
rush  there,  not  too  impetuously,  through  the  Wood  of  Bondy : — 
over  a  Rubicon  in  their  own  and  France's  History. 

Great;  though  the  future  is  all  vague!  If  we  reach  Bouille? 
If  we  do  not  reach  him?  O  Louis!  and  this  all  round  thee  is 
the  great  slumbering  Earth  (and  overhead,  the  great  watchful 
Heaven)  ;  the  slumbering  Wood  of  Bondy, — where  Longhaired 
Childeric  Donothing  was  struck  through  with  iron ;/»  not  un- 
reasonably, in  a  world  like  ours.  These  peaked  stone-towers 
are  Raincy ;  towers  of  wicked  D'Orleans.  All  slumbers  save  the 
multiplex  rustle  of  our  new  Berline.  Loose-skirted  scarecrow  of 
an  Herb-merchant,  with  his  ass  and  early  greens,  toilsomely 
plodding,  seems  the  only  creature  we  meet.  But  right  ahead 
the  great  Northeast  sends  up  evermore  his  gray  brindled  dawn : 
from  dewy  branch,  birds  here  and  there,  with  short  deep  warble, 
salute  the  coming  Sun.  Stars  fade  out,  and  Galaxies ;  Street- 
lamps  of  the  City  of  God.  The  Universe,  O  my  brothers,  is 
flinging  wide  its  portals  for  the  Levee  of  the  Great  High  King. 
Thou,  poor  King  Louis,  farest  nevertheless,  as  mortals  do,  to- 
wards Orient  lands  of  Hope ;  and  the  Tuileries  with  its  Levees, 
and  France  and  the  Earth  itself,  is  but  a  larger  kind  of  doghutch, 
— occasionally  going  rabid. 

h  Renault,  Abrege  Chronologtque,  p.  36. 


Juneaist]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  389 


Chapter  IV. — Attitude. 

But  in  Paris,  at  six  in  the  morning;  when  some  Patriot 
Deputy,  warned  by  a  billet,  awoke  Lafayette,  and  they  went  to 
the  Tuileries? — Imagination  may  paint,  but  words  cannot,  the 
surprise  of  Lafayette ;  or  with  what  bewilderment  helpless  Gou- 
vion  rolled  glassy  Argus'  eyes,  discerning  now  that  his  false 
Chambermaid  had  told  true ! 

However,  it  is  to  be  recorded  that  Paris,  thanks  to  an  august 
National  Assembly,  did,  on  this  seeming  doomsday,  surpass  it- 
self. Never,  according  to  Historian  eye-witnesses,  was  there 
seen  such  an  "  imposing  attitude. "»'  Sections  all  "  in  perma- 
nence ;  "  our  Townhall  too,  having  first,  about  ten  o'clock,  fired 
three  solemn  alarm-cannons :  above  all,  our  National  Assembly ! 
National  Assembly,  likewise  permanent,  decides  what  is  need- 
ful ;  wath  unanimous  consent,  for  the  Cote  Droit  sits  dumb, 
afraid  of  the  Lanterne.  Decides  with  a  calm  promptitude,  which 
rises  towards  the  sublime.  One  must  needs  vote,  for  the  thing 
is  self-evident,  that  his  Majesty  has  been  abducted,  or  spirited 
away,  "  enlevc,"  by  some  person  or  persons  unknown :  in  which 
case,  what  will  the  Constitvition  have  us  do?  Let  us  return  to 
first  principles,  as  we  always  say :  "  revenons  anx  principes." 

By  first  or  by  second  principles,  much  is  promptly  decided: 
Ministers  are  sent  for,  instructed  how  to  continue  their  func- 
tions ;  Lafayette  is  examined ;  and  Gouvion,  who  gives  a  most 
helpless  account,  the  best  he  can.  Letters  are  found  written :  one 
Letter,  of  immense  magnitude;  all  in  his  Majesty's  hand,  and 
evidently  of  his  Majesty's  own  composition ;  addressed  to  the 
National  Assembly.  It  details  with  earnestness,  with  a  child- 
like simplicity,  what  woes  his  Majesty  has  suffered.  Woes  great 
and  small :  A  Necker  seen  applauded,  a  Majesty  not ;  then  in- 
surrection ;  want  of  due  furniture  in  Tuileries  Palace ;  want  of 
due  cash  in  Civil  List ;  general  want  of  cash,  of  furniture  and 
order ;  anarchy  everywhere :  Deficit  never  yet,  in  the  smallest, 
"  choked  or  comhlc:" — wherefore,  in  brief,  his  Majesty  has  re- 
tired towards  a  place  of  Liberty ;  and,  leaving  Sanctions,  Federa- 
tion, and  what  Oaths  there  may  be,  to  shift  for  themselves,  does 
now  refer — to  what,    thinks    an    august  Assembly?     To  that 

i Deux  Amis,  vi.  67-178;  Toulongcon,  ii.  1-38;  Caniillc,  Prudhomnie 
and  Editors  (in  Hist.  Pari.  x.  240-4). 


390  CARLYLE  [1791 

"  Declaration  of  the  Twenty-third  of  June,"  with  its  ''Seul  il 
fera,  He  alone  will  make  his  People  happy."  As  if  that  were 
not  buried,  deep  enough,  under  two  irrevocable  Twelvemonths, 
and  the  wreck  and  rubbish  of  a  whole  Feudal  World !  This 
strange  autograph  Letter  the  National  Assembly  decides  on 
printing ;  on  transmitting  to  the  Eighty-three  Departments,  with 
exegetic  commentary,  short  but  pithy.  Commissioners  also  shall 
go  forth  on  all  sides ;  the  People  be  exhorted ;  the  Armies  be  in- 
creased ;  care  taken  that  the  Commonweal  suffer  no  damage. — 
And  now,  with  a  sublime  air  of  calmness,  nay  of  indifference,  we 
"  pass  to  the  order  of  the  day !  " 

By  such  sublime  calmness,  the  terror  of  the  People  is  calmed. 
These  gleaming  Pike-forests,  which  bristled  fateful  in  the  early 
sun,  disappear  again ;  the  far-sounding  Street-orators  cease,  or 
spout  milder.  We  are  to  have  a  civil  war ;  let  us  have  it  then. 
V  The  King  is  gone ;  but  National  Assembly,  but  France  and  we 
remain.  The  People  also  takes  a  great  attitude ;  the  People 
,  also  is  calm;  motionless  as  a  couchant  lion.  With  but  a  few 
hroolings,  some  waggings  of  the  tail ;  to  show  what  it  zvill  do ! 
Cazales,  for  instance,  was  beset  by  street-groups,  and  cries  of 
Lanterne;  but  National  Patrols  easily  delivered  him.  Likewise 
all  King's  effigies  and  statues,  at  least  stucco  ones,  get  abolished. 
Even  King's  names;  the  word  Roi  fades  suddenly  out  of  all 
shop-signs ;  the  Royal  Bengal  Tiger  itself,  on  the  Boulevards, 
becomes  the  National  Bengal  one,  Tigre  National.] 

How  great  is  a  calm  couchant  People!  On  the  morrow,  men 
will  say  to  one  another :  "  We  have  no  King,  yet  we  slept  sound 
enough."  On  the  morrow,  fervent  Achille  de  Chatelet,  and 
Thomas  Paine  the  rebellious  Needleman,  shall  have  the  walls 
of  Paris  profusely  plastered  with  their  Placard  ;  announcing  that 
there  must  be  a  Republic.^ — Need  we  add,  that  Lafayette  too, 
though  at  first  menaced  by  Pikes,  has  taken  a  great  attitude,  or 
indeed  the  greatest  of  all  ?  Scouts  and  Aides-de-camp  fly  forth, 
vague,  in  quest  and  pursuit ;  young  Romoeuf  towards  Valen- 
ciennes, though  with  small  hope. 

Thus  Paris ;  sublimely  calmed,  in  its  bereavement.  But  from 
the  Messageries  Royalcs,  in  all  Mail-bags,  radiates  forth  far- 
darting  the  electric  news :  Our  Hereditary  Representative  is 
flown.  Laugh,  black  Royalists :  yet  be  it  in  your  sleeve  only  ;  lest 
Patriotism  notice,  and  waxing  frantic,  lower  the  Lanterne !  In 
j  VValpoliana.  k  Dumont,  c.  16. 


June2ist]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  391 

Paris  alone  is  a  sublime  National  Assembly  with  its  calmness; 
truly,  other  places  must  take  it  as  they  can:  with  open  mouth 
and  eyes;  with  panic  cackling,  with  wrath,  with  conjecture. 
How  each  one  of  those  dull  leathern  Diligences,  with  its  leathern 
bag  and  "  The  King  is  fled,"  furrows  up  smooth  France  as  it 
goes ;  through  town  and  hamlet,  ruffles  the  smooth  public  mind 
into  quivering  agitation  of  death-terror;  then  lumbers  on,  as 
if  nothing  had  happened!  Along  all  highways;  towards  the 
utmost  borders ;  till  all  France  is  ruffled, — roughened  up 
(metaphorically  speaking)  into  one  enormous,  desperate-mind- 
ed red  guggling  Turkey  Cock ! 

For  example,  it  is  under  cloud  of  night  that  the  leathern 
Monster  reaches  Nantes ;  deep  sunk  in  sleep.  The  word  spoken 
rouses  all  Patriotic  men:  General  Dumouriez,  enveloped  in 
roquelaures,  has  to  descend  from  his  bedroom ;  finds  the  street 
covered  with  "  four  or  five  thousand  citizens  in  their  shirts."^ 
Here  and  there  a  faint  farthing  rushlight,  hastily  kindled  ;  and  so 
many  swart-featured  haggard  faces  with  nightcaps  pushed 
back ;  and  the  more  or  less  flowing  drapery  of  nightshirt :  open- 
mouthed  till  the  General  say  his  word !  And  overhead,  as  al- 
ways, the  Great  Bear  is  turning  so  quiet  round  Bootes ;  steady, 
indifferent  as  the  leathern  Diligence  itself.  Take  comfort,  ye 
men  of  Nantes ;  Bootes  and  the  steady  Bear  are  turning ;  an- 
cient Atlantic  still  sends  his  brine,  loud-billowing,  up  your  Loire 
stream ;  brandy  shall  be  hot  in  the  stomach ;  this  is  not  the  Last 
of  the  Days,  but  one  before  the  Last. — The  fools !  If  they 
knew  what  was  doing,  in  these  very  instants,  also  by  candle- 
light, in  the  far  Northeast ! 

Perhaps,  we  may  say,  the  most  terrified  man  in  Paris  or 
France  is — who  thinks  the  Reader? — seagreen  Robespierre. 
Double  paleness,  with  the  shadow  of  gibbets  and  halters,  over- 
casts the  seagreen  features :  it  is  too  clear  to  him  that  there  is 
to  be  "  a  Saint-Bartholomew  of  Patriots,"  that  in  four-and- 
twenty  hours  he  will  not  be  in  life.  These  horrid  anticipations  of 
the  soul  he  is  heard  uttering  at  Petion's :  by  a  notable  witness. 
By  Madame  Roland,  namely :  her  whom  we  saw  last  year, 
radiant  at  the  Lyons  Federation.  These  four  months,  the 
Rolands  have  been  in  Paris ;  arranging  with  Assembly  Com- 
mittees the  Municipal  affairs  of  Lyons,  affairs  all  sunk  in  debt ; 
communing,  the  while,  as  was  most  natural,  with  the  best 
/  Dumouriez,  Memoires,  ii.  109. 


392  CARLYLE  [i79i 

Patriots  to  be  found  here,  with  our  Brissots,  Petions,  Buzots, 
Robespierres :  who  were  wont  to  come  to  us,  says  the  fair 
Hostess,  four  evenings  in  the  week.  They,  running  about, 
busier  than  ever  this  day,  would  fain  have  comforted  the  sea- 
green  man ;  spake  of  Achille  de  Chatelet's  Placard ;  of  a  Journal 
to  be  called  The  Republican;  of  preparing  men's  minds  for  a 
Republic.  "  A  Republic  ?  "  said  the  Seagreen,  with  one  of  his 
dry  husky  «»sportful  laughs,  "  What  is  that?  ""i  O  seagreen 
Incorruptible,  thou  shalt  see! 


Chapter  V.— The  New  Berline. 

But  scouts,  all  this  while,  and  aides-de-camp,  have  flown 
forth  faster  than  the  leathern  Diligences.  Young  Romceuf,  as 
we  said,  was  off  early  towards  Valenciennes:  distracted  Vil- 
lagers seize  him,  as  a  traitor  with  a  finger  of  his  own  in  the 
plot;  drag  him  back  to  the  Townhall;  to  the  National  As- 
sembly, which  speedily  grants  a  new  passport.  Nay  now, 
that  same  scarecrow  of  an  Plerb-merchant  with  his  ass  has 
bethought  him  of  the  grand  new  Berline  seen  in  the  Wood 
of  Bondy;  and  delivered  evidence  of  it:"  Romceuf,  fur- 
nished with  new  passport,  is  sent  forth  with  double  speed  on 
a  hopefuler  track;  by  Bondy,  Claye  and  Chalons,  towards 
Metz,  to  track  the  new  Berline;    and  gallops  a  franc  etrier. 

Miserable  new  Berline!  Why  could  not  Royalty  go  in 
some  old  Berline  similar  to  that  of  other  men?  Flying  for 
life,  one  does  not  stickle  about  his  vehicle.  Monsieur,  in  a 
commonplace  travelling-carriage  is  off  Northwards ;  Madame, 
his  Princess,  in  another,  with  variation  of  route:  they  cross 
one  another  while  changing  horses,  without  look  of  recogni- 
tion ;  and  reach  Flanders,  no  man  questioning  them.  Precisely 
in  the  same  manner,  beautiful  Princess  de  Lamballe  set  off, 
about  the  same  hour;  and  will  reach  England  safe: — would 
she  had  continued  there!  The  beautiful,  the  good,  but  the 
unfortunate;    reserved  for  a  frightful  end! 

All  runs  along,  unmolested,  speedy,  except  only  the  new 
Berline.  Huge  leathern  vehicle :— huge  Argosy,  let  us  say, 
or  Acapulco  ship;    with  its  heavy  stern-boat  of  Chaise-and- 

m  Madame  Roland,  ii.  70. 

nMonitcur,  &c.  (in  Hist.  Pari.  x.  244-253). 


June2ist]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  393 

pair;  with  its  three  yellow  Pilot-boats  of  mounted  Body- 
guard Couriers,  rocking  aimless  round  it  and  ahead  of  it,  to 
bewilder,  not  to  guide!  It  lumbers  along,  lurchingly  with 
stress,  at  a  snail's  pace;  noted  of  all  the  world.  The  Body- 
guard Couriers,  in  their  yellow  liveries,  go  prancing  and 
clattering;  loyal  but  stupid;  unacquainted  with  all  things. 
Stoppages  occur;  and  breakages,  to  be  repaired  at  Etoges. 
King  Louis  too  will  dismount,  will  walk  up  hills,  and  enjoy 
the  blessed  sunshine: — with  eleven  horses  and  double  drink- 
money,  and  all  furtherances  of  Nature  and  Art,  it  will  be 
found  that  Royalty,  flying  for  life,  accomplishes  Sixty-nine 
miles  in  Twenty-two  incessant  hours.  Slow  Royalty!  And 
yet  not  a  minute  of  these  hours  but  is  precious:  on  minutes 
hang  the  destinies  of  Royalty  now. 

Readers,  therefore,  can  judge  in  what  humor  Duke  de  Choi- 
seul  might  stand  waiting,  in  the  village  of  Pont-de-Somme- 
velle,  some  leagues  beyond  Chalons,  hour  after  hour,  now 
when  the  day  bends  visibly  westward.  Choiseul  drove  out 
of  Paris,  in  all  privity,  ten  hours  before  their  Majesties'  fixed 
time;  his  Hussars,  led  by  Engineer  Goguelat,  are  here  duly, 
come  "  to  escort  a  Treasure  that  is  expected :"  but,  hour  after 
hour,  is  no  Baroness  de  Korff's  Berline.  Indeed,  over  all 
that  Northeast  Region,  on  the  skirts  of  Champagne  and  of 
Lorraine,  where  the  great  Road  runs,  the  agitation  is  con- 
siderable. For  all  along,  from  this  Pont-de-Sommevelle  North- 
eastward as  far  as  Montmedi,  at  Post-villages  and  Towns, 
escorts  of  Hussars  and  Dragoons  do  lounge  waiting;  a  train 
or  chain  of  Military  Escorts ;  at  the  Montmedi  end  of  it  our 
brave  Bouille :  an  electric  thunder-chain ;  which  the  invisible 
Bouille,  like  a  Father  Jove,  holds  in  his  hand — for  wise  pur- 
poses !  Brave  Bouille  has  done  what  man  could ;  has  spread 
out  his  electric  thunder-chain  of  Military  Escorts,  onwards 
to  the  threshold  of  Chalons:  it  waits  but  for  the  new  Korflf 
Berline ;  to  receive  it,  escort  it,  and,  if  need  be,  bear  it  off 
in  whirlwind  of  military  fire.  They  lie  and  lounge  there,  we 
say,  these  fierce  Troopers ;  from  Montmedi  and  Stenai,  through 
Clermont,  Saintc-Menehould  to  utmost  Pont-de-Sommcvelle, 
in  all  Post-villages ;  for  the  route  shall  avoid  Verdun  and 
great  Towns :  they  loiter  impatient,  "  till  the  Treasure  ar- 
rive." 

Judge  what  a  day  this  is  for  brave  Bouille :    perhaps  the 


394  CARLYLE  [1791 

first  day  of  a  new  glorious  life ;  surely  the  last  day  of  the 
old !  Also,  and  indeed  still  more,  what  a  day,  beautiful  and 
terrible,  for  your  young  full-blooded  Captains :  your  Dandoins, 
Comte  de  Damas,  Duke  de  Choiseul,  Engineer  Goguelat,  and 
the  like ;  intrusted  with  the  secret ! — Alas,  the  day  bends  ever 
more  westward;  and  no  Korff  Berline  comes  to  sight.  It 
is  four  hours  beyond  the  time,  and  still  no  Berline.  In  all 
Village-streets,  Royalist  Captains  go  lounging,  looking  often 
Paris-ward ;  with  face  of  unconcern,  with  heart  full  of  black 
care :  rigorous  Quartermasters  can  hardly  keep  the  private 
dragoons  from  cafes  and  dramshops.«  Dawn  on  our  bewilder- 
ment, thou  new  Berline;  dawn  on  us,  thou  Sun-Chariot  of 
a  new  Berline,  with  the  destinies  of  France ! 

It  was  of  his  Majesty's  ordering,  this  military  array  of 
Escorts :  a  thing  solacing  the  Royal  imagination  with  a  look 
of  security  and  rescue ;  yet,  in  reality,  creating  only  alarm, 
and,  where  there  was  otherwise  no  danger,  danger  without 
end.  For  each  Patriot,  in  these  Post-villages,  asks  naturally: 
This  clatter  of  cavalry,  and  marching  and  lounging  of  troops, 
what  means  it?  To  escort  a  Treasure?  Why  escort,  when 
no  Patriot  will  steal  from  the  Nation ;  or  where  is  your 
Treasure? — There  has  been  such  marching  and  counter- 
marching: for  it  is  another  fatality,  that  certain  of  these 
Military  Escorts  came  out  so  early  as  yesterday;  the  Nine- 
teenth not  the  Twentieth  of  the  month  being  the  day  first 
appointed ;  which  her  Majesty,  for  some  necessity  or  other, 
saw  good  to  alter.  And  now  consider  the  suspicious  nature 
of  Patriotism ;  suspicious,  above  all,  of  Bouille  the  Aristocrat ; 
and  how  the  sour  doubting  humor  has  had  leave  to  accumu- 
late and  exacerbate  for  four-and-twenty  hours ! 

At  Pont-de-Sommevelle,  these  Forty  foreign  Hussars  of  Go- 
guelat and  Duke  Choiseul  are  becoming  an  unspeakable  mys- 
tery to  all  men.  They  lounged  long  enough,  already,  at 
Sainte-Menehould ;  lounged  and  loitered  till  our  National 
Volunteers  there,  all  risen  into  hot  wrath  of  doubt,  "  demanded 
three  hundred  fusils  of  their  Townhall,"  and  got  them.  At 
which  same  moment  too,  as  it  chanced,  our  Captain  Dandoins 
was  just  coming  in,  from  Clermont  with  Ms  troop,  at  the  other 
end  of  the  Village.     A  fresh  troop ;  alarming  enough  ;  though 

a  Declaration  dti  Siciir  La  Cache  du  Regiment  Royal-Dragons  (in 
Choiseul,  pp.  125-39). 


June2ist]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION 


395 


happily  they  are  only  Dragoons  and  French !  So  that  Gogue- 
lat  with  his  Hussars  had  to  ride,  and  even  to  do  it  fast ;  till  here 
at  Pont-de-Sommevelle,  where  Choiseul  lay  waiting,  h'e  found 
resting-place.  Resting-place  as  on  burning  marie.  For  the 
rumor  of  him  flies  abroad ;  and  men  run  to  and  fro  in  fright 
and  anger :  Chalons  sends  forth  exploratory  pickets  of  National 
Volunteers  towards  this  hand;  which  meet  exploratory  pick- 
ets, coming  from  Sainte-Menehould,  on  that.  What  is  it,  ye 
whiskered  Hussars,  men  of  foreign  guttural  speech ;  in  the 
name  of  Heaven,  what  is  it  that  brings  you  ?  A  Treasure  ? — 
exploratory  pickets  shake  their  heads.  The  hungry  Peasants, 
however,  know  too  well  what  Treasure  it  is ;  Military  seizure 
for  rents,  feudalities ;  which  no  Bailifif  could  make  us  pay ! 
This  they  know ; — and  set  to  jingling  their  Parish-bell  by  way 
of  tocsin ;  with  rapid  effect !  Choiseul  and  Goguelat,  if  the 
whole  country  is  not  to  take  fire,  must  needs,  be  there  Berline, 
be  there  no  Berline,  saddle  and  ride. 

They  mount ;  and  this  parish  tocsin  happily  ceases.  They 
ride  slowly  Eastward;  towards  Sainte-Menehould;  still  hoping 
the  Sun-Chariot  of  a  Berline  may  overtake  them.  Ah  me,  no 
Berline !  And  near  now  is  that  Sainte-Menehould,  which  ex- 
pelled us  in  the  morning,  with  its  "  three  hundred  National 
fusils ;  "  which  looks,  belike,  not  too  lovingly  on  Captain  Dan- 
doins  and  his  fresh  Dragoons,  though  only  French ; — which, 
in  a  word,  one  dare  not  enter  the  second  time,  under  pain  of 
explosion  !  With  rather  heavy  heart,  our  Hussar  Party  strikes 
off  to  the  left;  through  by-ways,  through  pathless  hills  and 
woods,  they,  avoiding  Sainte-Menehould  and  all  places  which 
have  seen  them  heretofore,  will  make  direct  for  the  distant 
Village  of  Varennes.  It  is  probable  they  will  have  a  rough 
evening  ride. 

This  first  military  post,  therefore,  in  the  long  thunder-chain, 
has  gone  off  with  no  effect ;  or  with  worse,  and  your  chain 
threatens  to  entangle  itself ! — The  Great  Road,  however,  is  got 
hushed  again  into  a  kind  of  quietude,  though  one  of  the  wake- 
fulest.  Indolent  Dragoons  cannot,  by  any  Quartermaster,  be 
kept  altogether  from  the  dramshop ;  where  Patriots  drink,  and 
will  even  treat,  eager  enough  for  news.  Captains,  in  a  state 
near  distraction,  beat  the  dusty  highway,  with  a  face  of  indif- 
ference; and  no  Sun-Chariot  appears.  Why  lingers  it?  In- 
credible, that  with  eleven  horses,  and  such  yellow  Couriers  and 


396  CARLYLE  [i79i 

furtherances,  its  rate  should  be  under  the  weightiest  dray-rate, 
some  three  miles  an  hour !  Alas,  one  knows  not  whether  it 
ever  even  got  out  of  Paris ; — and  yet  also  one  knows  not 
whether,  this  very  moment,  it  is  not  at  the  Village-end  !  One's 
heart  flutters  on  the  verge  of  unutterabilities. 


Chapter  VI. — Old-Dragoon  Drouet. 

In  this  manner,  however,  has  the  Day  bent  downwards. 
Wearied  mortals  are  creeping  home  from  their  field-labor ;  the 
village-artisan  eats  with  relish  his  supper  of  herbs,  or  has 
strolled  forth  to  the  village-street  for  a  sweet  mouthful  of  air 
and  human  news.  Still  summer-eventide  everywhere!  The 
great  Sun  hangs  flaming  on  the  utmost  Northwest ;  for  it  is  his 
longest  day  this  year.  The  hill-tops  rejoicing  will  ere  long  be 
at  their  ruddiest,  and  blush  Good-night.  The  thrush,  in  green 
dells,  on  long-shadowed  leafy  spray,  pours  gushing  his  glad 
serenade,  to  the  babble  of  brooks  grown  audibler;  silence  is 
stealing  over  the  Earth.  Your  dusty  Mill  of  Valmy,  as  all 
other  mills  and  drudgeries,  may  furl  its  canvas,  and  cease 
swashing  and  circling.  The  swenkt  grinders  in  this  Tread- 
mill of  an  Earth  have  ground  out  another  Day;  and  lounge 
there,  as  we  say,  in  village-groups ;  movable,  or  ranked  on 
social  stone-seats  ;a  their  children,  mischievous  imps,  sporting 
about  their  feet.  Unnotable  hum  of  sweet  human  gossip  rises 
from  this  Village  of  Sainte-Menehould,  as  from  all  other  vil- 
lages. Gossip  mostly  sweet,  unnotable ;  for  the  very  Dra- 
goons are  French  and  gallant ;  nor  as  yet  has  the  Paris-and- 
Verdun  Diligence,  with  its  leathern  bag,  rumbled  in,  to  terrify 
the  minds  of  men. 

One  figure  nevertheless  we  do  note  at  the  last  door  of  the 
; "  Village :  that  figure  in  loose-flowing  night-gown,  of  Jean  Bap- 
;  tiste  Drouet,  Master  of  the  Post  here.  An  acrid  choleric  man, 
rather  dangerous-looking ;  still  in  the  prime  of  life,  though  he 
has  served,  in  his  time,  as  a  Conde  Dragoon.  This  day,  from 
an  early  hour  Drouet  got  his  choler  stirred,  and  has  been  kept 
fretting.  Hussar  Goguelat  in  the  morning  saw  good,  by  way 
of  thrift,  to  bargain  with  his  own  Innkeeper,  not  with  Drouet 
regular  Maitre  de  Post,  about  some  gig-horse  for  the  sending 

a  Rapport  de  M.  Remy  (in  Choiseul,  p.  143). 


Junezist]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  397 

back  of  his  gig;  which  thing  Drouet  perceiving  came  over  in 
red  ire,  menacing  the  Innkeeper,  and  would  not  be  appeased. 
Wholly  an  unsatisfactory  day.  For  Drouet  is  an  acrid  Patriot 
too,  was  at  the  Paris  Feast  of  Pikes :  and  what  do  these  Bouille 
soldiers  mean  ?  Hussars, — with  their  gig,  and  a  vengeance  to 
it ! — have  hardly  been  thrust  out,  when  Dandoins  and  his  fresh 
Dragoons  arrive  from  Clermont,  and  stroll.  For  what  pur- 
pose? Choleric  Drouet  steps  out  and  steps  in,  with  long- 
flowing  night-gown;  looking  abroad,  with  that  sharpness  of 
faculty  which  stirred  choler  gives  to  man. 

On  the  other  hand,  mark  Captain  Dandoins  on  the  street  of 
that  same  Village;  sauntering  with  a  face  of  indifference,  a 
heart  eaten  of  black  care  !  For  no  Korff  Berline  makes  its  ap- 
pearance. The  great  Sun  flames  broader  towards  setting; 
one's  heart  flutters  on  the  verge  of  dread  unutterabilities. 

By  Heaven !  here  is  the  yellow  Bodyguard  Courier ;  spur- 
ring fast,  in  the  ruddy  evening  hght!  Steady,  O  Dandoins, 
stand  with  inscrutable  indifferent  face;  though  the  yellow 
blockhead  spurs  past  the  Post-house ;  inquires  to  find  it ;  and 
stirs  the  Village,  all  delighted  with  his  fine  livery. — Lumber- 
ing along  with  its  mountains  of  bandboxes,  and  Chaise  behind, 
the  Korfif  Berline  rolls  in ;  huge  Acapulco  ship  with  its  Cock- 
boat, having  got  thus  far.  The  eyes  of  the  Villagers  look  en- 
lightened, as  such  eyes  do  when  a  coach-transit,  which  is  an 
event,  occurs  for  them.  Strolling  Dragoons  respectfully,  so 
fine  are  the  yellow  liveries,  bring  hand  to  helmet ;  and  a  Lady 
in  gypsy-hat  responds  with  a  grace  peculiar  to  her.ft  Dan- 
doins stands  with  folded  arms,  and  what  look  of  indifference 
and  disdainful  garrison-air  a  man  can,  while  the  heart  is  like 
leaping  out  of  him.  Curled  disdainful  mustachio ;  careless 
glance, — which  however  surveys  the  Village-groups,  and  does 
not  like  them.  With  his  eye  he  bespeaks  the  yellow  Courier, 
Be  quick,  be  quick !  Thick-headed  Yellow  cannot  understand 
the  eye ;  comes  up  mumbling,  to  ask  in  words :  seen  of  the  Vil- 
lage! 

Nor  is  Post-master  Drouet  unobservant  all  this  while:  but 
steps  out  and  steps  in,  with  his  long-flowing  nightgown,  in  the 
level  sunlight ;  prying  into  several  things.  When  a  man's 
faculties,  at  the  right  time,  are  sharpened  by  choler,  it  may  load 
to  much.  That  Lady  in  slouched  gypsy-hat,  though  sitting 
b  Declaration  de  La  Cache  (in  Choiseul,  ubi  suprd). 


398  CARLYLE  [1 791 

back  in  the  Carriage,  does  she  not  resemble  some  one  we  have 
seen,  some  time; — at  the  Feast  of  Pikes,  or  elsewhere?  And 
this  Grosse-Tete  in  round  hat  and  peruke,  which,  looking  rear- 
ward, pokes  itself  out  from  time  to  time,  methinks  there  are 

features  in  it ?     Quick,  Sieur  Guillaume,  Clerk  of  the  Di- 

rcctoire,  bring  me  a  new  Assignat !  Drouet  scans  the  new 
Assignat;  compares  the  Paper-money  Picture  with  the  Gross 
Head  in  round  hat  there :  by  Day  and  Night !  you  might  say 
the  one  was  an  attempted  Engraving  of  the  other.  And  this 
march  of  Troops ;  this  sauntering  and  whispering, — I  see  it ! 

Drouet  Post-master  of  this  Village,  hot  Patriot,  Old-Dra- 
goon of  Conde,  consider,  therefore,  what  thou  wilt  do.  And 
fast,  for  behold  the  new  Berline,  expeditiously  yoked,  cracks 
whipcord,  and  rolls  away! — Drouet  dare  not,  on  the  spur  of 
the  instant,  clutch  the  bridles  in  his  own  two  hands ;  Dandoins, 
with  broadsword,  might  hew  you  off.  Our  poor  Nationals, 
not  one  of  them  here,  have  three  hundred  fusils,  but  then  no 
powder ;  besides  one  is  not  sure,  only  morally-certain.  Drou- 
et, as  an  adroit  Old-Dragoon  of  Conde,  does  what  is  advis- 
ablest;  privily  bespeaks  Clerk  Guillaume,  Old-Dragoon  of 
Conde  he  too;  privily,  while  Clerk  Guillaume  is  saddling  two 
of  the  fleetest  horses,  slips  over  to  the  Townhall  to  whisper  a 
word ;  then  mounts  with  Clerk  Guillaume ;  and  the  two  bound 
eastward  in  pursuit,  to  see  what  can  be  done. 

They  bound  eastward,  in  sharp  trot :  their  moral-certainty 
permeating  the  Village,  from  the  Townhall  outwards,  in  busy 
whispers.  Alas !  Captain  Dandoins  orders  his  Dragoons  to 
mount ;  but  they,  complaining  of  long  fast,  demand  bread-and- 
cheese  first ; — before  which  brief  repast  can  be  eaten,  the  whole 
Village  is  permeated ;  not  whispering  now,  but  blustering  and 
shrieking !  National  Volunteers,  in  hurried  muster,  shriek  for 
gunpowder ;  Dragoons  halt  between  Patriotism  and  Rule  of 
the  Service,  between  bread-and-cheese  and  fixed  bayonets : 
Dandoins  hands  secretly  his  Pocket-book,  with  its  secret  de- 
spatches, to  the  rigorous  Quartermaster :  the  very  Ostlers  have 
stable-forks  and  flails.  The  rigorous  Quartermaster,  half- 
saddled,  cuts  out  his  way  with  the  sword's  edge,  amid  levelled 
bayonets,  amid  Patriot  vociferations,  adjurations,  flail-strok'es ; 
and  rides  frantic  \c — few  or  even  none  following  him ;  the  rest, 
so  sweetly  constrained,  consenting  to  stay  there. 

c  Declaration  de  La  Cache  (in  Choiseul,  p.  134). 


June  2ist]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  399 

And  thus  the  new  Berline  rolls ;  and  Drouet  and  Guillaume 
gallop  after  it,  and  Dandoins'  Troopers  or  Trooper  gallops  af- 
ter them ;  and  Sainte-Menehould,  with  some  leagues  of  the 
King's  Highway,  is  in  explosion ; — and  your  Military  thunder- 
chain  has  gone  off  in  a  self-destructive  manner;  one  may  fear, 
with  the  frightfulest  issues. 

Chapter  VII.— The  Night  of  Spurs. 

This  comes  of  mysterious  Escorts,  and  a  new  Berline  with 
eleven  horses :  "  he  that  has  a  secret  should  not  only  hide  it, 
but  hide  that  he  has  it  to  hide."  Your  first  Military  Escort  has 
exploded  self-destructive ;  and  all  Military  Escorts,  and  a  sus- 
picious Country  will  now  be  up,  explosive ;  comparable  not  to 
victorious  thunder.  Comparable,  say  rather,  to  the  first  stir- 
ring of  an  Alpine  Avalanche ;  which,  once  stir  it,  as  here  at 
Sainte-Menehould,  will  spread, — all  round,  and  on  and  on,  as 
far  as  Stenai ;  thundering  with  wild  ruin,  till  Patriot  Villagers, 
Peasantry,  Military  Escorts,  new  Berline  and  Royalty  are 
down, — ^jumbling  in  the  Abyss  ! 

The  thick  shades  of  Night  are  falling.  Postillions  crack  and 
whip :  the  Royal  Berline  is  through  Clermont,  where  Colonel 
Comte  de  Damas  got  a  word  whispered  to  it ;  is  safe  through, 
towards  Varennes ;  rushing  at  the  rate  of  double  drink-money : 
an  Unknown,  "  Inconnu  on  horseback,"  shrieks  earnestly  some 
hoarse  whisper,  not  audible,  into  the  rushing  Carriage-win- 
dow, and  vanishes,  left  in  the  nightd  August  Travellers  pal- 
pitate; nevertheless  overwearied  Nature  sinks  every  one  of 
them  into  a  kind  of  sleep.  Alas,  and  Drouet  and  Clerk  Guil- 
laume spur;  taking  side-roads,  for  shortness,  for  safety;  scat- 
tering abroad  that  moral-certainty  of  theirs ;  which  flies,  a  bird 
of  the  air  carrying  it ! 

And  your  rigorous  Quartermaster  spurs  ;  awakening  hoarse 
trumpet-tone, — as  here  at  Clermont,  calling  out  Dragoons 
gone  to  bed.  Brave  Colonel  de  Damas  has  them  mounted,  in 
part,  these  Clermont  men ;  young  Cornet  Rcmy  dashes  off 
with  a  few.  But  the  Patriot  Magistracy  is  out  here  at  Cler- 
mont too ;  National  Guards  shrieking  for  ball-cartridges ;  and 
the  Village  "illuminates  itself;" — deft  Patriots  springing  out 
of  bed ;   alertly,  in  shirt  or  shift,  striking  a  light ;   sticking  up 

d  Campan,  ii.  159. 


400  CARLYLE  [1791 

each  his  farthing  candle,  or  penurious  oil-cruse,  till  all  glitters 
and  glimmers ;  so  deft  are  they !  A  camisado,  or  shirt-tumult, 
everywhere:  storm-bell  set  a-ringing;  village-drum  beating 
furious  generale,  as  here  at  Clermont,  under  illumination ;  dis- 
tracted Patriots  pleading  and  menacing !  Brave  young  Colonel 
de  Damas,  in  that  uproar  of  distracted  Patriotism,  speaks  some 
fire-sentences  to  what  Troopers  he  has :  "  Comrades  insulted 
at  Sainte-Menehould :  King  and  Country  calling  on  the 
brave ;"  then  gives  the  fire-word,  Drazv  swords.  Whereupon, 
alas,  the  Troopers  only  smite  their  sword-handles,  driving  them 
farther  home !  "  To  me,  whoever  is  for  the  King !  "  cries 
Damas  in  despair;  and  gallops,  he  with  some  poor  loyal  Two, 
of  the  Subaltern  sort,  into  the  bosom  of  the  Night.^ 

Night  unexampled  in  the  Clermontais;  shortest  of  the 
year;  remark-ablest  of  the  century:  Night  deserving  to  be 
named  of  Spurs !  Cornet  Remy,  and  those  Few  he  dashed  off 
with,  has  missed  his  road;  is  galloping  for  hours  towards 
Verdun ;  then,  for  hours,  across  hedged  country,  through 
roused  hamlets,  towards  Varennes.  Unlucky  Cornet  Remy; 
unluckier  Colonel  Damas,  with  whom  there  ride  desperate  only 
some  loyal  Two !  More  ride  not  of  that  Clermont  Escort :  of 
other  Escorts,  in  other  Villages,  not  even  Two  may  ride ;  but 
only  all  curvet  and  prance, — impeded  by  storm-bell  and  your 
Village  illuminating  itself. 

And  Drouet  rides  and  Clerk  Guillaume;  and  the  Country 
runs, — Goguelat  and  Duke  Choiseul  are  plunging  through 
morasses,  over  clifTs,  over  stock  and  stone,  in  the  shaggy 
woods  of  the  Clermontais ;  by  tracks ;  or  trackless,  with 
guides ;  Hussars  tumbling  into  pitfalls,  and  lying  "  swooned 
three  quarters  of  an  hour,"  the  rest  refusing  to  march  with- 
out them.  What  an  evening  ride  from  Pont-de-Sommevelle ; 
what  a  thirty  hours,  since  Choiseul  quitted  Paris,  with  Queen's- 
valet  Leonard  in  the  chaise  by  him!  Black  Care  sits  behind 
the  rider.  Thus  go  they  plunging;  rustle  the  owlet  from  his 
branchy  nest;  champ  the  sweet-scented  forest-herb,  queen- 
of-the-meadows  spilling  her  spikenard ;  and  frighten  the  ear 
of  Night.  But  hark!  towards  twelve  o'clock,  as  one  guesses, 
for  the  very  stars  are  gone  out :  sound  of  the  tocsin  from 
Varennes?      Checking    bridle,    the    Hussar    Officer    listens: 

e'Procbs-verhal  du  Directoire  de  Clermont  (in  Choiseul,  pp.  189-95). 


June2istl  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  401 

"  Some  fire  undoubtedly !  " — yet  rides  on,  with  double  breath- 
lessness,  to  verify. 

Yes,  gallant  friends  that  do  your  utmost,  it  is  a  certain 
sort  of  fire :  difficult  to  quench. — The  Korff  Berline,  fairly 
ahead  of  all  this  riding  Avalanche,  reached  the  little  paltry 
Village  of  Varennes  about  eleven  o'clock ;  hopeful,  in  spite 
of  that  hoarse-whispering  Unknown.  Do  not  all  Towns  now 
lie  behind  us;  Verdun  avoided,  on  our  right?  Within  wind 
of  Bouille  himself,  in  a  manner;  and  the  darkest  of  mid- 
summer nights  favoring  us !  And  so  we  halt  on  the  hill-top 
at  the  South  end  of  the  Village ;  expecting  our  relay ;  which 
young  Bouille,  Bouille's  own  son,  with  his  Escort  of  Hussars, 
was  to  have  ready ;  for  in  this  Village  is  no  post.  Distracting 
to  think  of :  neither  horse  nor  Hussar  is  there !  Ah,  and 
stout  horses,  a  proper  relay  belonging  to  Duke  Choiseul,  do 
stand  at  hay,  but  in  the  Upper  Village  over  the  Bridge ;  and 
we  know  not  of  them.  Hussars  likewise  do  wait,  but  drinking 
in  the  taverns.  For  indeed  it  is  six  hours  beyond  the  time ; 
young  Bouille,  silly  stripling,  thinking  the  matter  over  for  this 
night,  has  retired  to  bed.  And  so  our  yellow  Couriers,  in- 
experienced, must  rove,  groping,  bungling,  through  a  Village 
mostly  asleep:  Postilions  will  not,  for  any  money,  go  on  with 
the  tired  horses;  not  at  least  without  refreshment;  not  they, 
let  the  Valet  in  round  hat  argue  as  he  likes. 

Miserable !  "  For  five-and-thirty  minutes  "  by  the  King's 
watch,  the  Berline  is  at  a  dead  stand:  Round-hat  arguing 
with  Chum-boots ;  tired  horses  slobbering  their  meal-and- 
water;  yellow  Couriers  groping,  bungling; — young  Bouille 
asleep,  all  the  while,  in  the  Upper  Village,  and  Choiseul's  fine 
team  standing  there  at  hay.  No  help  for  it;  not  with  a 
King's  ransom ;  the  horses  deliberately  slobber,  Round-hat 
argues,  Bouille  sleeps.  And  mark  now,  in  the  thick  night, 
do  not  two  Horsemen,  with  jaded  trot,  come  clank-clanking; 
and  start  with  half-pause,  if  one  noticed  them,  at  sight  of 
this  dim  mass  of  a  Berline,  and  its  dull  slobbering  and  arguing ; 
then  prick  off  faster,  into  the  Village?  It  is  Drouet,  he  and 
Clerk  Guillaume!  Still  ahead,  they  two,  of  the  whole  riding 
hurlyburly ;  unshot,  though  some  brag  of  having  chased  them. 
Perilous  is  Drouet's  errand  also;  but  he  is  an  Old-Dragoon, 
with  his  wits  shaken  thoroughly  awake. 

The  Village  of  Varennes  lies  dark  and  slumberous ;  a  most 
Vol.  I.— 26 


40  2 


CARLYLE  [1 79 1 


unlevel  Village,  of  inverse  saddle-shape,  as  men  write.  It 
sleeps;  the  rushing  of  the  River  Aire  singing  lullaby  to  it. 
Nevertheless  from  the  Golden  Arm,  Bras  d'Or  Tavern,  across 
that  sloping  Marketplace,  there  still  comes  shine  of  social 
light;  comes  voice  of  rude  drovers,  or  the  like,  who  have 
not  yet  taken  the  stirrup-cup;  Boniface  Le  Blanc,  in  white 
apron,  serving  them:  cheerful  to  behold.  To  this  Bras  d'Or 
Drouet  enters,  alacrity  looking  through  his  eyes;  he  nudges 
Boniface,  in  all  privacy,  "  Camarade,  es-tu  bon  Patriote,  Art 
thou  a  good  Patriot?" — ''Si  je  suis!"  answers  Boniface. — 
"  In  that  case,"  eagerly  whispers  Drouet — what  whisper  is 
needful,  heard  of  Boniface  alone.a 

And  now  see  Boniface  Le  Blanc  bustling,  as  he  never  did 
for  the  j oiliest  toper.  See  Drouet  and  Guillaume,  dexterous 
Old-Dragoons,  instantly  down  blocking  the  Bridge,  with  a 
"  furniture-wagon  they  find  there,"  with  whatever  wagons, 
tumbrils,  barrels,  barrows  their  hands  can  lay  hold  of; — till 
no  carriage  can  pass.  Then  swiftly,  the  Bridge  once  blocked, 
see  them  take  station  hard  by,  under  Varennes  Archway: 
joined  by  Le  Blanc,  Le  Blanc's  Brother,  and  one  or  two  alert 
Patriots  he  has  roused.  Some  half-dozen  in  all,  with  National 
muskets,  they  stand  close,  waiting  under  the  Archway,  till 
that  same  Korff  Berline  rumble  up. 

It  rumbles  up:  Altc  la!  lanterns  flash  out  from  under 
coat-skirts,  bridles  chuck  in  strong  fists,  two  National  muskets 
level  themselves  fore  and  aft  through  the  two  Coach-doors: 
"  Mesdames,  your  Passports ?  "—Alas,  alas!  Sieur  Sausse, 
Procureur  of  the  Township,  Tallow-chandler  also  and  Grocer, 
is  there,  with  official  grocer-politeness ;  Drouet  with  fierce  logic 
and  ready  wit : — The  respected  Travelling  Party,  be  it  Baroness 
de  Korff's,  or  persons  of  still  higher  consequence,  will  per- 
haps please  to  rest  itself  in  M.  Sausse's  till  the  dawn  strike  up ! 

O  Louis;  O  hapless  Marie- Antoinette,  fated  to  pass  thy 
life  with  such  men!  Phlegmatic  Louis,  art  thou  but  lazy 
semi-animate  phlegm,  then,  to  the  centre  of  thee?  King,  Cap- 
tain-General, Sovereign  Frank !  if  thy  heart  ever  formed,  since 
it  began  beating  under  the  name  of  heart,  any  resolution  at  all, 
be  it  now  then,  or  never  in  this  world : — "  Violent  nocturnal 
individuals,  and  if  it  were  persons  of  high  consequence?  And 
if  it  were  the  King  himself?     Has  the  King  not  the  power, 

aTDeux  Amis,  vi.  139-78. 


June2ist]  THE  FRENCH   REVOLUTION  403 

which  all  beggars  have,  of  travelling  unmolested  on  his  own 
Highway  ?  Yes :  it  is  the  King ;  and  tremble  ye  to  know 
it !  The  King  has  said,  in  this  one  small  matter ;  and  in 
France,  or  under  God's  Throne,  is  no  power  that  shall  gain- 
say. Not  the  King  shall  ye  stop  here  under  this  your  miser- 
able Archway;  but  his  dead  body  only,  and  answer  it  to 
Heaven  and  Earth.  To  me,  Bodyguards;  Postillions,  en 
avant!" — One  fancies  in  that  case  the  pale  paralysis  of  these 
two  Le  Blanc  musketeers ;  the  drooping  of  Drouet's  under- 
jaw ;  and  how  Procureur  Sausse  had  melted  like  tallow  in 
furnace-heat :  Louis  faring  on ;  in  some  few  steps  awaken- 
ing Young  Bouille,  awakening  relays  and  Hussars :  trium- 
phant entry,  with  cavalcading  high-brandishing  Escort,  and 
Escorts,  into  Montmedi;  and  the  whole  course  of  French 
History  different ! 

Alas,  is  was  not  in  the  poor  phlegmatic  man.  Had  it  been 
in  him,  French  History  had  never  come  under  this  Varennes 
Archway  to  decide  itself. — He  steps  out;  all  step  out. 
Procureur  Sausse  gives  his  grocer-arms  to  the  Queen  and 
Sister  Elizabeth ;  Majesty  taking  the  two  children  by  the 
hand.  And  thus  they  walk,  coolly  back,  over  the  Market- 
place to  Procureur  Sausse's ;  mount  into  his  small  upper 
story;  where  straightway  his  Majesty  "demands  refresh- 
ments." Demands  refreshments,  as  is  written ;  gets  bread- 
and-cheese  with  a  bottle  of  Burgundy ;  and  remarks,  that  it 
is  the  best  Burgundy  he  ever  drank!  -^ 

Meanwhile  the  Varennes  Notables,  and  all  men,  official 
and  non-official,  are  hastily  drawing-on  their  breeches ;  getting 
their  fighting  gear.  Mortals  half-dressed  tumble  out  barrels, 
lay  felled  trees ;  scouts  dart  off  to  all  the  four  winds, — the 
tocsin  begins  clanging,  "  the  Village  illuminates  itself."  Very 
singular :  how  these  little  Villages  do  manage,  so  adroit  are  they, 
when  startled  in  midnight  alarm  of  war.  Like  little  adroit 
municipal  rattlesnakes  suddenly  awakened:  for  their  storm- 
bell  rattles  and  rings;  their  eyes  glisten  luminous  (with  tal- 
low-light), as  in  rattle-snake  ire;  and  the  Village  will  sting. 
Old-Dragoon  Drouct  is  our  engineer  and  generalissimo; 
valiant  as  a  Ruy  Diaz: — Now  or  never,  ye  Patriots,  for  the 
soldiery  is  coming;  massacre  by  Austrians,  by  Aristocrats, 
wars  more  than  civil,  it  all  depends  on  you  and  the  hour! — 
National    Guards    rank    themselves,    half-buttoned :     mortals. 


404  CARLYLE  [1791 

we  say,  still  only  in  breeches,  in  under-petticoat,  tumble  out 
barrels  and  lumber,  lay  felled  trees  for  barricades :  the  Vil- 
lage will  sting.  Rabid  Democracy,  it  would  seem,  is  not  con- 
fined to  Paris,  then  ?  Ah  no,  whatsoever  Courtiers  might  talk ; 
too  clearly  no.  This  of  dying  for  one's  King  is  grown  into  a 
dying  for  one's  self,  agai)ist  the  King,  if  need  be. 

And  so  our  riding  and  running  Avalanche  and  Hurlyburly 
has  reached  the  Abyss,  Korff  Berline  foremost ;  and  may  pour 
itself  thither,  and  jumble:  endless!  For  the  next  six  hours, 
need  we  ask  if  there  was  a  clattering  far  and  wide  ?  Clattering 
and  tocsining  and  hot  tumvilt,  over  all  the  Clermontais,  spread- 
ing through  the  Three-Bishoprics :  Dragoon  and  Hussar 
Troops  galloping  on  roads  and  no-roads ;  National  Guards 
arming  and  starting  in  the  dead  of  night ;  tocsin  after  tocsin 
transmitting  the  alarm.  In  some  forty  minutes,  Goguelat  and 
Choiseul,  with  their  wearied  Hussars,  reach  Varennes.  Ah,  it 
is  no  fire,  then ;  or  a  fire  difficult  to  quench !  They  leap  the 
tree-barricades,  in  spite  of  National  sergeant ;  they  enter  the 
village,  Choiseul  instructing  his  Troopers  how  the  matter 
really  is ;  who  respond  interjectionally,  in  their  guttural  dia- 
lect, " Der  Konig;  die  Kdniginn! "  and  seem  stanch.  These 
now,  in  their  stanch  humor,  will,  for  one  thing,  beset  Procureur 
Sausse's  house.  Most  beneficial :  had  not  Drouet  stormfully 
ordered  otherwise ;  and  even  bellowed,  in  his  extremity,  "  Can- 
noneers, to  your  guns !  " — two  old  honeycombed  Field-pieces, 
empty  of  all  but  cobwebs ;  the  rattle  whereof,  as  the  Can- 
noneers with  assured  countenance  trundled  them  up,  did  never- 
theless abate  the  Hussar  ardor,  and  produce  a  respectfuler 
ranking  farther  back.  Jugs  of  wine,  handed  over  the  ranks, 
— for  the  German  throat  too  has  sensibility, — will  complete 
the  business.  When  Engineer  Goguelat,  some  hour  or  so 
afterwards,  steps  forth,  the  response  to  him  is — a  hiccuping 
Vive  la  Nation! 

What  boots  it?  Goguelat,  Choiseul,  now  also  Count  Damas, 
and  all  the  Varennes  Officiality  are  with  the  King;  and  the 
King  can  give  no  order,  form  no  opinion ;  but  sits  there,  as 
he  has  ever  done,  like  clay  on  potter's  wheel ;  perhaps  the 
absurdcst  of  all  pitiable  and  pardonable  clay-figures  that  now 
circle  under  the  Moon.  He  will  go  on,  next  morning,  and 
take  the  National  Guard  zvith  him ;  Sausse  permitting !  Hap- 
less    Queen :    with  her  two  children  laid  there  on  the  mean 


June  22d]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  405 

bed,  old  Mother  Sausse  kneeling  to  Heaven,  with  tears  and 
an  audible  prayer,  to  bless  them ;  imperial  Marie- Antoinette 
near  kneeling  to  Son  Sausse  and  Wife  Sausse,  amid  candle- 
boxes  and  treacle-barrels, — in  vain!  There  are  Three  thou- 
sand National  Guards  got  in ;  before  long  they  will  count 
Ten  thousand :  tocsin  spreading  like  fire  on  dry  heath,  or 
far  faster. 

Young  Bouille,  roused  by  this  Varennes  tocsin,  has  taken 
horse,  and — fled  towards  his  Father.  Thitherward  also  rides, 
in  an  almost  hysterically  desperate  manner,  a  certain  Sieur 
Aubriot,  Choiseul's  Orderly ;  swimming  dark  rivers,  our 
Bridge  being  blocked;  spurring  as  if  the  Hell-hunt  were  at 
his  heels. 0  Through  the  village  of  Dun,  he  galloping  still  on, 
scatters  the  alarm ;  at  Dun,  brave  Captain  Deslons  and  his 
Escort  of  a  Hundred  saddle  and  ride.  Deslons  too  gets  into 
Varennes ;  leaving  his  hundred  outside,  at  the  tree-barricade ; 
offers  to  cut  King  Louis  out,  if  he  will  order  it:  but  unfor- 
tunately "  the  work  will  prove  hot :"  whereupon  King  Louis 
has  "  no  orders  to  give."& 

And  so  the  tocsin  clangs,  and  Dragoons  gallop,  and  can 
do  nothing,  having  galloped :  National  Guards  stream  in  like 
the  gathering  of  ravens :  your  exploding  Thunder-chain,  fall- 
ing Avalanche,  or  what  else  we  liken  it  to,  does  play,  with  a 
vengeance, — up  now  as  far  as  Stenai  and  Bouille  himself.c 
Brave  Bouille,  son  of  the  whirlwind,  he  saddles  Royal-Alle- 
mand ;  speaks  fire-words,  kindling  heart  and  eyes ;  distributes 
twenty-five  gold-louis  a  company: — Ride,  Royal-Allemand, 
long-famed :  no  Tuileries  Charge  and  Necker-Orleans  Bust- 
Procession  ;  a  very  King  made  captive,  and  world  all  to  win ! 
— Such  is  the  Night  deserving  to  be  named  of  Spurs. 

At  six  o'clock  two  things  have  happened.  Lafayette's 
Aide-de-camp,  Romceuf,  riding  d  franc  etrier,  on  that  old 
Herb-merchant's  route,  quickened  during  the  last  stages,  has 
got  to  Varennes;  where  the  Ten  thousand  now  furiously  de- 
mand, with  fury  of  panic  terror,  that  Royalty  shall  forthwith 
return  Paris-ward,  that  there  be  not  infinite  bloodshed.  Also, 
on  the  other  side,  "  English  Tom,"  Choiseul's  jokei,  flying  with 
that  Choiseul  relay,  has  met  Bouille  on  the  heights  of  Dun ; 

a  Rapport  de  M.  Aubriot  (in  Clioiscnl,  pp.  150-7). 

h  Extrait  d'un  Rapport  de  M.  Deslons  (in  Choiseul,  pp.  164-7). 

c  Bouille,  ii.  74-6. 


4o6  CARLYLE  [:79i 

the  adamantine  brow  flushed  with  dark  thunder;  thunderous 
rattle  of  Royal-Allemand  at  his  heels.  English  Tom  answers 
as  he  can  the  brief  question,  How  is  it  at  Varennes? — then 
asks  in. turn,  What  he,  English  Tom,  with  M.  de  Choiseul's 
horses,  is  to  do,  and  whither  to  ride? — To  the  Bottomless 
Pool !  answers  a  thunder-voice ;  then  again  speaking  and 
spurring,  orders  Royal-Allemand  to  the  gallop;  and  vanishes, 
swearing  (en  jiirant).d  'Tis  the  last  of  our  brave  Bouille. 
Within  sight  of  Varennes,  he  having  drawn  bridle,  calls  a 
council  of  officers;  finds  that  it  is  in  vain.  King  Louis  has 
departed,  consenting :  amid  the  clangor  of  universal  stormbell ; 
amid  the  tramp  of  Ten  thousand  armed  men,  already  arrived ; 
and  say,  of  Sixty  thousand  flocking  thither.  Brave  Deslons, 
even  without  "  orders,"  darted  at  the  River  Aire  with  his 
Hundred  ;^  swam  one  branch  of  it,  could  not  the  other ;  and 
stood  there,  dripping  and  panting,  with  inflated  nostril ;  the 
Ten  thousand  answering  him  with  a  shout  of  mockery,  the 
new  Berline  lumbering  Paris-ward  its  weary  inevitable  way. 
No  help,  then,  in  Earth ;  nor,  in  an  age  not  of  miracles,  in 
Heaven ! 

That  night,  "  Marquis  de  Bouille  and  twenty-one  more  of 
us  rode  over  the  Frontiers :  the  Bernardine  monks  at  Orval 
in  Luxemburg  gave  us  supper  and  lodging."/^  With  little  of 
speech,  Bouille  rides ;  with  thoughts  that  do  not  brook  speech. 
Northward,  towards  uncertainty,  and  the  Cimmerian  Night : 
towards  West-Indian  Isles,  for  with  thin  Emigrant  delirium 
the  son  of  the  whirlwind  cannot  act ;  towards  England,  to- 
wards premature  Stoical  death ;  not  towards  France  any 
more.  Honor  to  the  Brave ;  who,  be  it  in  this  quarrel  or  in 
that,  is  a  substance  and  articulate-speaking  piece  of  human 
Valor,  not  a  fanfaronading  hollow  Spectrum  and  squeaking 
and  gibbering  Shadow !  One  of  the  few  Royalist  Chief-actors 
this  Bouille,  of  whom  so  much  can  be  said. 

The  brave  Bouille  too,  then,  vanishes  from  the  tissue  of 
our  Story.  Story  and  tissue,  faint  ineffectual  Emblem  of  that 
grand  Miraculous  Tissue,  and  Living  Tapestry  named  French 
Revolution,  which  did  weave  itself  then  in  very  fact,  "  on  the 
loud-sounding  Loom  of  Time  " !     The  old  Brave  drop  out 

d  Declaration  du  Sicur  Thomas  (in  Choiscul,  p.  i8R). 

e  Weber,  ii.  386.  /  Aubriot,  ut  supra,  p.  158. 


June  25th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  407 

from  it,  with  their  strivings ;  and  new  acrid  Drouets,  of  new 
strivings  and  color,  come  in: — ^as  is  the  manner  of  that 
weaving. 

Chapter  VIII.— The  Return. 

So,  then,  our  grand  RoyaHst  Plot,  of  Flight  to  Metz,  has 
executed  itself.  Long  hovering  in  the  background,  as  a  dread 
royal  ultimatum,  it  has  rushed  forward  in  its  terrors:  verily 
to  some  purpose.  How  many  Royalist  Plots  and  Projects, 
one  after  another,  cunningly-devised,  that  were  to  explode  like 
powder-mines  and  thunder-claps ;  not  one  solitary  Plot  of 
which  has  issued  otherwise !  Powder-mine  of  a  Seance 
Royal e  on  the  Twenty-third  of  June  1789,  which  exploded 
as  we  then  said,  "  through  the  touchhole ;"  which  next,  your 
wargod  Broglie  having  reloaded  it,  brought  a  Bastille  about 
your  ears.  Then  came  fervent  Opera-Repast,  with  flourishing 
of  sabres,  and  O  Richard,  O  my  King;  which,  aided  by  Hunger, 
produces  Insurrection  of  Women,  and  Pallas  Athene  in  the 
shape  of  Demoiselle  Theroigne.  Valor  profits  not ;  neither 
has  fortune  smiled  on  fanfaronade.  The  Bouille  Armament 
ends  as  the  Broglie  one  has  done.  Man  after  man  spends 
himself  in  this  cause,  only  to  work  it  quicker  ruin ;  it  seems 
a  cause  doomed,  forsaken  of  Earth  and  Heaven. 

On  the  Sixth  of  October  gone  a  year.  King  Louis,  escorted 
by  Demoiselle  Theroigne  and  some  two  hundred  thousand, 
made  a  Royal  Progress  and  Entrance  into  Paris,  such  as 
man  had  never  witnessed ;  we  prophesied  him  Two  more 
such;  and  accordingly  another  of  them,  after  this  Flight  to 
Metz,  is  now  coming  to  pass.  Theroigne  will  not  escort  here ; 
neither  does  Mirabeau  now  "  sit  in  one  of  the  accompanying 
carriages."  Mirabeau  lies  dead,  in  the  Pantheon  of  Great 
Men.  Theroigne  lies  living,  in  dark  Austrian  Prison ;  having 
gone  to  Liege,  professionally,  and  been  seized  there.  Be- 
murmured  now  by  the  hoarse-flowing  Danube;  the  light  of 
her  Patriot  Supper-parties  gone  quite  out ;  so  lies  Theroigne : 
she  shall  speak  with  the  Kaiser  face  to  face,  and  return.  And 
France  lies — how !  Fleeting  Time  shears  down  the  great  and 
the  little ;    and  in  two  years  alters  many  things. 

But  at  all  events,  here,  we  say,  is  a  second  Ignominious 
Royal  Procession,  though  much  altered ;    to  be  witnessed  also 


4o8  CARLYLE  [1791 

by  its  hundreds  of  thousands.  Patience,  ye  Paris  Patriots ; 
the  Royal  BerHne  is  returning.  Not  till  Saturday:  for  the 
Royal  Berline  travels  by  slow  stages;  amid  such  loud-voiced 
confluent  sea  of  National  Guards,  sixty  thousand  as  they 
count;  amid  such  tumult  of  all  people.  Three  National-As- 
sembly Commissioners,  famed  Barnave,  famed  Petion,  gen- 
erally-respectable Latour-Maubourg,  have  gone  to  meet  it; 
of  whom  the  two  former  ride  in  the  Berline  itself  beside 
Majesty,  day  after  day.  Latour,  as  a  mere  respectability, 
and  a  man  of  whom  all  men  speak  well,  can  ride  in  the  rear, 
with  Dame  de  Tourzel  and  the  Soubrettes. 

So  on  Saturday  evening,  about  seven  o'clock,  Paris  by 
hundreds  of  thousands  is  again  drawn  up:  not  now  dancing 
the  tricolor  joy-dance  of  hope ;  nor  as  yet  dancing  in  fury- 
dance  of  hate  and  revenge :  but  in  silence,  with  vague  look  of 
conjecture,  and  curiosity  mostly  scientific.  A  Saint- Antoine 
Placard  has  given  notice  this  morning  that  "  whosoever  insults 
Louis  shall  be  caned,  whosoever  applauds  him  shall  be  hanged." 
Behold  then,  at  last,  that  wonderful  New  Berline ;  encircled 
by  blue  National  sea  with  fixed  bayonets,  which  flows  slowly, 
floating  it  on,  through  the  silent  assembled  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands. Three  yellow  Couriers  sit  atop  bound  with  ropes ; 
Petion,  Barnave,  their  Majesties,  with  Sister  Elizabeth,  and 
the  Children  of  France,  are  within. 

Smile  of  embarrassment,  or  cloud  of  dull  sourness,  is  on 
the  broad  phlegmatic  face  of  his  Majesty ;  who  keeps  declar- 
ing to  the  successive  Official  persons,  what  is  evident,  "  Eh 
hicii,  me  voilci,  Well,  here  you  have  me ;"  and  what  is  not 
evident,  "  I  do  assure  you  I  did  not  mean  to  pass  the  fron- 
tiers ;"  and  so  forth :  speeches  natural  for  that  poor  Royal 
Man ;  which  Decency  would  veil.  Silent  is  her  Majesty,  with 
a  look  of  grief  and  scorn;  natural  for  that  Royal  Woman. 
Thus  lumbers  and  creeps  the  ignominious  Royal  Procession, 
through  many  streets,  amid  a  silent-gazing  people:  com- 
parable Mercier  thinks,a  to  some  Procession  dii  Roi  de  Ba- 
soche;  or  say,  Procession  of  King  Crispin,  with  his  Dukes  of 
Sutormania  and  royal  blazonry  of  Cordwainery.  Except  in- 
deed that  this  is  not  comic;  ah  no,  it  is  comico-tragic ;  with 
bound  Couriers,  and  a  Doom  hanging  over  it ;  most  fantastic, 
yet  most  miserably  real.     Miserablest  Hchilc  hidibrmin   of  a 

o  Nouveau  Paris,  iii.  22. 


July]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  409 

Pickleherring  Tragedy !  It  sweeps  along  there,  in  most  tingor- 
geous  pall,  through  many  streets  in  the  dusty  summer  evening ; 
gets  itself  at  length  wriggled  out  of  sight;  vanishing  in  the 
Tuileries  Palace, — towards  its  doom,  of  slow  torture,  peine  forte 
et  dure. 

Populace,  it  is  true,  seizes  the  three  rope-bound  yellow  Cou- 
riers ;  will  at  least  massacre  them.  But  our  august  Assembly, 
which  is  sitting  at  this  great  moment,  sends  out  Deputation 
of  rescue ;  and  the  whole  is  got  huddled  up.  Barnave,  "  all 
dusty,"  is  already  there,  in  the  National  Hall ;  making  brief 
discreet  address  and  report.  As  indeed,  through  the  whole 
journey,  this  Barnave  has  been  most  discreet,  sympathetic;  and 
has  gained  the  Queen's  trust,  whose  noble  instinct  teaches 
her  always  who  is  to  be  trusted.  Very  different  from  heavy 
Petion ;  who,  if  Campan  speak  truth,  ate  his  luncheon,  com- 
fortably filled  his  wine-glass,  in  the  Royal  Berline;  flung  out 
his  chicken-bones  past  the  nose  of  Royalty  itself;  and,  on 
the  King's  saying,  "  France  cannot  be  a  Republic,"  answered, 
"  No,  it  is  not  ripe  yet."  Barnave  is  henceforth  a  Queen's 
adviser,  if  advice  could  profit :  and  her  Majesty  astonishes 
Dame  Campan  by  signifying  almost  a  regard  for  Barnave ; 
and  that,  in  a  day  of  retribution  and  Royal  triumph,  Bar- 
nave shall  not  be  executed.^ 

On  Monday  night  Royalty  went ;  on  Saturday  evening  it 
returns :  so  much,  within  one  short  week,  has  Royalty  accom- 
plished for  itself.  The  Pickleherring  Tragedy  has  vanished 
in  the  Tuileries  Palace,  towards  "  pain  strong  and  hard." 
Watched,  fettered  and  humbled,  as  Royalty  never  was. 
Watched  even  in  its  sleeping-apartments  and  inmost  recesses: 
for  it  has  to  sleep  with  door  set  ajar,  blue  National  Argus 
watching,  his  eye  fixed  on  the  Queen's  curtains ;  nay,  on  one 
occasion,  as  the  Queen  cannot  sleep,  he  offers  to  sit  by  her 
pillow,  and  converse  a  little  \c 

b  Campan,  ii.  c.  18.  c  Ibid.  ii.  149. 


41  o  CARLYLE  [1791 


Chapter  IX Sharp  Shot. 

In  regard  to  all  which,  this  most  pressing  question  arises^ 
What  is  to  be  done  with  it?  Depose  it!  resolutely  answer 
Robespierre  and  the  thoroughgoing  few.  For,  truly,  with  a 
King  who  runs  away,  and  needs  to  be  watched  in  his  very 
bedroom  that  he  may  stay  and  govern  you,  what  other  rea- 
sonable thing  can  be  done?  Had  Philippe  d'Orleans  not  been 
a  caput  mortuHui!  But  of  him,  known  as  one  defunct,  no 
man  now  dreams.  Depose  it  not ;  say  that  it  is  inviolable,  that 
it  was  spirited  away,  was  enlevc;  at  any  cost  of  sophistry 
and  solecism,  re-establish  it !  so  answer  with  loud  vehemence 
all  manner  of  Constitutional  Royalists ;  as  all  your  pure 
Royalists  do  naturally  likewise,  with  low  vehemence,  and  rage 
compressed  by  fear,  still  more  passionately  answer.  Nay  Bar- 
nave  and  the  two  Lameths,  and  what  will  follow  them,  do 
likewise  answer  so.  Answer,  with  their  whole  might:  ter- 
rorstruck  at  the  unknown  Abysses  on  the  verge  of  which, 
driven  thither  by  themselves  mainly,  all  now  reels,  ready  to 
plunge. 

By  mighty  effort  and  combination,  this  latter  course  is  the 
course  fixed  on ;  and  it  shall  by  the  strong  arm,  if  not  by  the 
clearest  logic,  be  made  good.  With  the  sacrifice  of  all  their 
heard-earned  popularity,  this  notable  Triumvirate,  says  Toulon- 
geon,  "  set  the  Throne  up  again,  which  they  had  so  toiled  to 
overturn:  as  one  might  set  up  an  overturned  pyramid,  on  its 
vertex  ;  "  to  stand  so  long  as  it  is  held. 

Unhappy  France;  unhappy  in  King,  Queen  and  Constitu- 
tion ;  one  knows  not  in  which  unhappiest !  Was  the  meaning 
of  our  so  glorious  French  Revolution  this,  and  no  other.  That 
when  Shams  and  Delusions,  long  soul-killing,  had  become 
body-killing,  and  got  the  length  of  Bankruptcy  and  Inanition, 
a  great  People  rose  and,  with  one  voice,  said,  in  the  Name 
of  the  Highest:  Shams  shall  be  no  more?  So  many  sorrows 
and  bloody  horrors,  endured,  and  to  be  yet  endured  through 
dismal  coming  centuries,  were  they  not  the  heavy  price  paid 
and  payable  for  this  same:  Total  Destruction  of  Shams  from 
among  men  ?  And  now,  O  Barnave  Triumvirate !  is  it  in 
such  (/on6/c-distilled  Delusion,  and  Sham  even  of  a  Sham, 
that  an  efifort  of  this  kind  will  rest  acquiescent?    Messieurs  of 


July  1 7th]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  411 

the  popular  Triumvirate,  never! — But,  after  all,  what  can 
poor  popular  Triumvirates,  and  fallible  august  Senators,  do? 
They  can,  when  the  Truth  is  ail-too  horrible,  stick  their  heads 
ostrich-like  into  what  sheltering  Fallacy  is  nearest;  and  wait 
there,  a  posteriori. 

Readers  who  saw  the  Clermontais  and  Three-Bishopricks 
gallop  in  the  Night  of  Spurs ;  Diligences  ruffling  up  all 
France  into  one  terrific  terrified  Cock  of  India ;  and  the 
Town  of  Nantes  in  its  shirt, — may  fancy  what  an  affair  to 
settle  this  was.  Robespierre,  on  the  extreme  Left,  with  per- 
haps Petion  and  lean  old  Goupil,  for  the  very  Triumvirate 
has  defalcated,  are  shrieking  hoarse ;  drowned  in  Constitu- 
tional clamor.  But  the  debate  and  arguing  of  a  whole  Nation ; 
the  bellowings  through  all  Journals,  for  and  against ;  the 
reverberant  voice  of  Danton ;  the  Hyperion  shafts  of  Camille, 
the  porcupine-quills  of  implacable  Marat : — conceive  all  this. 

Constitutionalists  in  a  body,  as  we  often  predicted,  do 
now  recede  from  the  Mother  Society,  and  become  Feuillans; 
threatening  her  with  inanition,  the  rank  and  respectability 
being  mostly  gone.  Petition  after  Petition,  forwarded  by 
Post,  or  borne  in  Deputation,  comes  praying  for  Judgment 
and  Dcchcance,  which  is  our  name  for  Deposition ;  praying, 
at  lowest,  for  Reference  to  the  Eighty-three  Departments  of 
France.  Hot  Marseillese  Deputation  comes  declaring,  among 
other  things :  "  Our  Phocean  Ancestors  flung  a  Bar  of  Iron 
into  the  Bay  at  their  first  landing;  this  Bar  will  float  again 
on  the  Mediterranean  brine  before  we  consent  to  be  slaves." 
All  this  for  four  weeks  or  more,  while  the  matter  still  hangs 
doubtful ;  Emigration  streaming  with  double  violence  over 
the  frontiers  ;a  France  seething  in  fierce  agitation  of  this 
question  and  prize-question:  What  is  to  be  done  with  the 
fugitive  Hereditary  Representative? 

Finally,  on  Friday  the  15th  of  July  1791,  the  National 
Assembly  decides  ;  in  what  negatory  manner  we  know.  Where- 
upon the  Theatres  all  close,  the  i?o;/rn(?-stones  and  Portable- 
chairs  begin  spouting.  Municipal  Placards  flaming  on  the 
walls,  and  Proclamations  published  by  sound  of  trumpet,  "  in- 
vite to  repose ;"  with  small  effect.  And  so,  on  Sunday  the 
17th,  there  shall  be  a  thing  seen,  worthy  of  rememliering. 
Scroll  of  a  Petition,  drawn  up  by  Brissots,  Dantons.  by  Cor- 

a  Bouillc,  ii.  loi. 


412 


CARLYLE  [1791 


deliers,  Jacobins ;  for  the  thing  was  infinitely  shaken  and 
manipulated,  and  many  had  a  hand  in  it:  such  Scroll  lies 
now  visible,  on  the  wooden  framework  of  the  Fatherland's 
Altar,  for  signature.  Unworking  Paris,  male  and  female,  is 
crowding  thither,  all  day,  to  sign  or  to  see.  Our  fair  Roland 
herself  the  eye  of  History  can  discern  there  "  in  the  morn- 
ing;"^ not  without  interest.  In  few  weeks  the  fair  Patriot 
will  quit  Paris;    yet  perhaps  only  to  return. 

But,  what  with  sorrow  of  balked  Patriotism,  what  with 
closed  theatres,  and  Proclamations  still  publishing  themselves 
by  sound  of  trumpet,  the  fervor  of  men's  minds,  this  day,  is 
great.  Nay,  over  and  above,  there  has  fallen  out  an  incident, 
of  the  nature  of  Farce-Tragedy  and  Riddle ;  enough  to  stimu- 
late all  creatures.  Early  in  the  day,  a  Patriot  (or  some  say, 
it  was  a  Patriotess,  and  indeed  the  truth  is  undiscoverable), 
while  standing  on  the  firm  deal-board  of  Fatherland's  Altar, 
feels  suddenly,  with  indescribable  torpedo-shock  of  amaze- 
ment, his  bootsole  pricked  through  from  below;  clutches  up 
suddenly  this  electrified  bootsole  and  foot;  discerns  next  in- 
stant— the  point  of  a  gimlet  or  bradawl  playing  up,  through 
the  firm  deal-board,  and  now  hastily  drawing  itself  back! 
Mystery,  perhaps  Treason?  The  wooden  framework  is  im- 
petuously broken  up;  and  behold,  verily  a  mystery;  never 
explicable  fully  to  the  end  of  the  world !  Two  human  indi- 
viduals, of  mean  aspect,  one  of  them  with  a  wooden  leg,  lie 
ensconsed  there,  gimlet  in  hand :  they  must  have  come  in 
overnight ;  they  have  a  supply  of  provisions, — no  "  barrel  of 
gunpowder"  that  one  can  sec;  they  affect  to  be  asleep;  look 
blank  enough,  and  give  the  lamest  account  of  themselves. 
"  Mere  curiosity ;  they  were  boring  up,  to  get  an  eye-hole ; 
to  see,  perhaps  '  with  lubricity,'  whatsoever,  from  that  nezv 
point  of  vision,  could  be  seen:" — little  that  was  edifying,  one 
would  think !  But  indeed  what  stupidest  thing  may  not  human 
Dulness,  Pruriency,  Lubricity,  Chance  and  the  Devil,  choos- 
ing Two  out  of  Half-a-million  idle  human  heads,  tempt 
them  to?c 

Sure  enough,  the  two  human  individuals  with  their  gimlet 

are  there.     Ill-starred  pair  of  individuals !     For  the  result  of 

it   all    is,    that    Patriotism,    fretting    itself,    in    this    state    of 

nervous  excitability,  with  hypotheses,  suspicions  and  reports, 

b  Madame  Roland,  ii.  74.  c  Hist.  Pari.  xi.  104-7. 


Julyiyth]  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  413 

keeps  questioning  these  two  distracted  human  individuals,  and 
again  questioning  them ;  claps  them  into  the  nearest  Guard- 
house, clutches  them  out  again;  one  hypothetic  group  snatch- 
ing them  from  another:  till  finally,  in  such  extreme  state  of 
nervous  excitability.  Patriotism  hangs  them  as  spies  of  Sieur 
Motier;  and  the  life  and  secret  is  choked  out  of  them  for- 
evermore.  Forevermore,  alas !  Or  is  a  day  to  be  looked  for 
when  these  two  evidently  mean  individuals,  who  are  human 
nevertheless,  will  become  Historical  Riddles ;  and,  like  him 
of  the  Iron  Mask  (also  a  humg^n  individual,  and  evidently 
nothing  more), — have  their  Dissertations?  To  us  this  only 
is  certain,  that  they  had  a  gimlet,  provisions  and  a  wooden 
leg;  and  have  died  there  on  the  Lanterne,  as  the  unluckiest 
fools  might  die. 

And  so  the  signature  goes  on,  in  a  still  more  excited 
manner.  And  Chaumette,  for  Antiquarians  possess  the  very 
Paper  to  this  houT,d — has  signed  himself  "  in  a  flowing  saucy 
hand  slightly  leaned;"  and  Hebert,  detestable  Pere  Duchesne, 
as  if  "  an  inked  spider  had  dropped  on  the  paper ;"  Usher 
Maillard  also  has  signed,  and  many  Crosses,  which  cannot 
write.  And  Paris,  through  its  thousand  avenues,  is  welling 
to  the  Champ-de-Mars  and  from  it,  in  the  utmost  excitability 
of  humor;  central  Fatherland's  Altar  quite  heaped  with  sign- 
ing Patriots  and  Patriotesses ;  the  Thirty  benches  and  whole 
internal  Space  crowded  with  onlookers,  with  comers  and  goers ; 
one  regurgitating  whirlpool  of  men  and  women  in  their  Sun- 
day clothes.  All  which  a  Constitutional  Sieur  Motier  sees ; 
and  Bailly,  looking  into  it  with  his  long  visage  made  still 
longer.  Auguring  no  good ;  perhaps  Dcchcance  and  Deposi- 
tion after  all !  Stop  it,  ye  Constitutional  Patriots ;  fire  itself 
is  quenchable, — yet  only  quenchable  at  -first. 

Stop  it,  truly:  but  how  stop  it?  Have  not  the  first  free 
People  of  the  Universe  a  right  to  petition? — Happily,  if  also 
unhappily,  here  is  one  proof  of  riot:  these  two  human  indi- 
viduals hanged  at  the  Lanterne.  Proof,  O  treacherous  Sieur 
Motier?  Were  they  not  two  human  individuals  sent  thither 
by  thee  to  be  hanged ;  to  be  a  pretext  for  lliy  bloody  Drapcau 
Rouge?  This  question  shall  many  a  Patriot,  one  day,  ask; 
and  answer  affirmatively,  strong  in  Preternatural  Suspicion. 

Enough,  towards  half-past  seven  in  the  evening,  the  mere 

d  Ibid.  xi.  113,  &c. 


414  CARLYLE  [1791 

natural  eye  can  behold  this  thing :  Sieur  Motier,  with  Munici- 
pals in  scarf,  with  blue  National  Patrollotism,  rank  after  rank, 
to  the  clang  of  drums;  wending  resolutely  to  the  Champ-de- 
Mars;  Mayor  Bailly,  with  elongated  visage,  bearing,  as  in 
sad  duty  bound,  the  Drapeau  Rouge.  Howl  of  angry  derision 
rises  in  treble  and  bass  from  a  hundred  thousand  throats,  at 
the  sight  of  Martial  Law ;  which  nevertheless,  waving  its 
Red  sanguinary  Flag,  advances  there,  from  the  Gros-Caillou 
Entrance;  advances,  drumming  and  waving,  towards  Altar 
of  Fatherland.  Amid  still  wilder  howls,  with  objurgation, 
obtestation ;  with  flights  of  pebbles  and  mud,  saxa  et  faces; 
with  crackle  of  a  pistol-shot ; — finally  with  volley-fire  of  Patrol- 
lotism; levelled  muskets;  roll  of  volley  on  volley!  Precisely 
after  one  year  and  three  days,  our  sublime  Federation  Field 
is  wetted,  in  this  manner,  with  French  blood. 

Some  "  Twelve  unfortunately  shot,"  reports  Bailly,  count- 
ing by  units ;  but  Patriotism  counts  by  tens  and  even  by  hun- 
dreds. Not  to  be  forgotten,  nor  forgiven !  Patriotism  flies, 
shrieking,  execrating.  Camille  ceases  journalizing,  this  day; 
great  Danton  with  Camille  and  Freron  have  taken  wing,  for 
their  life ;  Marat  burrows  deep  in  the  Earth,  and  is  silent. 
Once  more  Patrollotism  has  triumphed;  one  other  time;  but 
it  is  the  last. 

This  was  the  Royal  Flight  to  Varennes.  Thus  was  the 
Throne  overturned  thereby;  but  thus  also  was  it  victoriously 
set  up  again — on  its  vertex;  and  will  stand  while  it  can  be 
held. 


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